Finding Meaning
by Iris Cornelia Jade
Summary: Truth, Justice, Law-the path of the Yatagarasu is one lined with secrets, darkness, and even...death? The story of how Kay Faraday, Ema Skye, and Maya Fey gave the name of the Yatagarasu meaning through seven missions and a murder. Rated for safety.
1. Chapter 1

_{Kay Faraday_

Kay Faraday had wanted to say and do many, many things ever since she had learned of the legacy her father had supposedly passed on to her. Not all of them were realistic, of course, and quite a lot of them were no more than childish, overdramatic musings. However, some had still managed to become reality—"for I am the Great Thief, Yatagarasu!"

Paired with a hair-flip and a secretive Mona-Lisa-smirk, that had been one crowning achievement. Another had been using Little Thief to fight for the truth…the first time. Placing the calling card down in the center of the main office's desk. Leaping past security lasers, cartwheeling out a window. One thing she had not anticipated, though, was this.

"Abort mission," she screamed to herself as she collapsed onto the ground, neatly tucking into a ball and somersaulting down the terrain.

"Thank God I took that gymnastics course," she whispered to herself—or at least as much as she could whisper when panting, air in and out of her lungs forcing her vocal cords louder. Wincing slightly at the uneven surface she rolled over, she heard the telltale click of a gun in passing and felt her heart quicken dangerously. _These people do __**not**__ play nice._

She tilted her body sideways, changing her trajectory, giving a start as a tranquilizing dart landed inches from her still moving body. Planting her outward-facing heels into the smooth concrete slabs, she managed to slow enough to make her motion from roll to run flow evenly. Her long legs switching rapidly, pacing quickly, her training paid her off again, taking her past the inner gates as they took motion with a groan—just as the outer gates slammed shut.

"Damn."

Sprinting up to the iron bars, she cursed herself inwardly, kicking furiously at the cold metal and wincing at the returning jolt of pain. Her leather gloves dug into the poles, the controversial sheepskin oils inside giving just enough friction to begin a slow climb. Nowhere near fast enough, however—the two guards, heavily armored, bulky, and carting hi-tech weapons, had caught up. Neither seemed even partially winded, like Kay did—although that was perhaps because they were nowhere near nervous. After all, it was their home territory. Their weapons. All of that—against one girl not even past twenty-five. They had the advantage, and that was known fact.

However, adrenaline was a driving factor. She managed a grin when she thought back, her father, his words—_a cornered animal is the most dangerous_.

Despite the numb feeling running through her fingers and into her wrists, her ankles twisting far back as she dug them into the slick surface, her teeth gritted as she pulled herself up. Placing her hand onto the spike atop the gate—barbaric much?—her mouth formed a silent O as the spear tip dug into her palm. However, as the only solid hold, it was the only chance she had for survival.

She swung her leg up, hitching her arm to the right as another dart sailed past her. The visors on her assailant's heads, while shielding them from a variety of light spectrums and other projectiles, obviously did nothing for their aim.

_One. More. Push._

She struggled, faltered—however, with one last strain and a crow reminiscent, not of the elegant three legged raven, but a wounded wolf back from the brink of death, she pulled herself over. Her clothing tore and her hair snagged onto the wires on the tall sign above her; however, she still fell back onto the concreted, feet first, hands a close second, distributing her weight evenly and lessening the force. Palms stinging, she analyzed the downhill slope in seconds and, instead of sprinting that would no doubt cause a speed too quick for balance, tucked herself back into a ball and rolled down again, keeping herself as straight as possible. There were times like this, still high from the adrenaline rush but relying on the slope to take her, when she wished life was just as straightforward as a getaway down a smooth downward angle.

A stray rock in the path sent her sprawling off, knocking her straight into a gnarled tree trunk a safe distance from the imposing gray building. Her back smashed against it hard, jolting her again, another injury to the list—not that her entire body didn't already feel numb. She landed head up, facing the stars that had turned hazy through the leaves. Metallic blood wormed its way into her mouth, and she thought of and dismissed any danger that might befall her in that position. All that was there—her and the sky. The air was stale. It smelled like possibility nevertheless—one that had come and went, but might still be regained.

She had postponed her duty as the Yatagarasu for long enough, trailing as Mr. Edgeworth's assistant for who-knows-how-many-years before finally conceding Gumshoe had his job, she had hers, and hers was not with her friend. From the moment she had finally reacquainted herself with Mr. Edgeworth—seventeen years of age—to twenty. And now, three years later, after countless training and careful study of potential targets…

Another failed mission. She had been so close. And now, she would mount a bike three blocks away from the main corporation and ride home, shred her newspapers so she wouldn't have to read a headline on her failure, and go through the motions until another mission came up. One she would mostly likely botch again, just as she had the last couple.

Her mouth opened, as of her own accord, speaking to her words that were not her own. Kay Faraday, the Second Yatagarasu.

"…I need to find an ally."

_No, _she thought back to herself in almost backhanded response. _I am my own island. I need no one._

But that was not true, and she knew it. Again, she thought to herself, pressing hard. No time for second-guesses or false confidence. Otherwise I betray myself, the Yatagarasu, and my father's trust. I need an ally.

_But that's still not enough, _the little mini-Kay in her head responded. _Mr. Edgeworth is your ally. Gummy is your ally. Both support you. But yet you have still failed. It has to be something else._

"No, not an ally," she agreed to herself, again out loud. She thought of sitting up, but dismissed it. She'd looked at the stars plenty of times with her dad. He had claimed once that he would imagine himself soaring among them, that it would feel natural to him, more so than the ground. That it would clear his head and help him think. Kay had once upon a time asked how the sky felt better than the ground. He had laughed cryptically and replied that, if he were an animal, he would think of himself as a crow.

How long had it taken her to figure out what he had really meant?

A shadow winged across the sky—a bird in the night, tilting and uneven, one wing rising above the other in a crosswind. Kay would later think of the bird as her omen. She would admit the impossible fantasy that it was a crow—but she would retain that it was, nevertheless.

The words tasted like defeat, coming out of her mouth. But, as always, it was defeat tainted with hope. Dangerous, bright white hope that would destroy her if false but save her if real.

"Not an ally. I need to find…the rest."

_Ahaha! Hey, Edgeworth._

Kay had often wondered why Shih-Na, Calisto Yew, had not been caught. It occurred to her, then and there, that it was perhaps because that if she fell, two other legs either propped her back up or fell with her.

_The Yatagarasu has three legs. Do you know why that is?_

"I need to find…my legs. My wings."

"I need to find the others."

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

Slamming the door of her nondescript car shut furiously, Ema banged her way through the door and up the slowly inclining ramp. Past the security guard office, past the slowly improving plaques—temporary meeting galleys, detective-prosecutor conference rooms, offices that got better the closer she got to the twelfth floor. She took her strides slowly, one after another, relishing the ache that started somewhere past the halfway mark up.

If only, she thought, to prolong the time it took to get the twelfth floor. Boss's office. Klavier Gavin, rock god and prosecutor extraordinaire.

Scowling fiercely, Ema dug into her pack, fishing through clinking glass containers chock-full of chemicals before her fingers finally met something that crackled and bent under her touch—her plastic bag of Snackoos. Yanking it out and cramming everything else in before tucking her case file neatly under her arm, she stuffed her hand in and brought it to her mouth. Almost instinctively, her teeth bit down.

MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH

The sound of chewing that had become her telltale trademark rang through the hallways as she scowled, roughly pushing past the stream of rooms that were growing thinner by the minute. Finally, she paused at one last conference room. The corners of her mouth turned downward.

On normal days, she would push past this room. Ignore it, pretend like it had never happened, like a fundamental part of her had never happened.

But that day was not normal. And that was what led to Ema Skye, gazing down on the room that held the legendary conference of Joe Darke.

Down a couple of feet came the elevator that Ema knew by heart—and, eventually, Damon Gant and Lana Skye's joint office. Or what was once said office. Ema knew now it was storage on one side and a meeting room on the other. Completely forgotten—either that, or just tactfully ignored.

On most days, Ema would follow that same lead. But today was not a normal day.

_She had gotten a letter from Lana today._

Ema scowled again. She rarely heard from her sister anymore—after being recently released, she had been sent a letter from the board stating shortly that she could no longer practice law in America. Lana had set up permanent residence in Europe, marrying Jake Marshall, regaining her career as a prosecutor, and taking over Ema's old apartment just as she herself left.

_Whoop-dee-doo._

Meanwhile, Ema had moved back to America to follow her dream and pay back her debts. What a childishly naïve child she had been—Phoenix Wright disbarred, Miles Edgeworth with a teenage new assistant, failing the forensics test. She had lost every sense of her purpose—she could do nothing to help those who had once helped her, because they either already had or were beyond help. And on top of that, there was not even a single shred of personal gain for her.

Reaching the twelfth floor, she let her feet take her by instinct and absentmindedly knocked on the imposing wooden door of the office in front of her. Mahogany swung open as Ema held out the case file in one hand, balancing her Snackoos under her arm as she deftly switched the two and trying to reach into the packet with the same hand. "Here's that case file, you glimmerous fo—"

Miles Edgeworth stood in the doorway of Room 1202, High Prosecutor's Office, arms folded defiantly and eyebrow arched, confused expression plastered on his face. Ema's hand still held out the case file, mouth frozen in an O, hand bent at an angle toward her precious snack that was starting to make her wrist hurt.

"…I'm sorry, Mr. Edgeworth."

Staring blankly away, she grabbed the door and turned to close it, dropping the file altogether and stuffing handful after handful of Snackoos into her mouth. Her face was most definitely turning red—her stress eating was such a bad habit. The bittersweet taste of chocolate bloomed over her mouth, the satisfying crunch at the end curbing off the edge of her anger at herself.

Edgeworth gripped the handle from the other side, keeping the door open a crack.

"Ema, wait."

A flash of the eyes and a firm line for a mouth that indicated worry, and that was all it took. Ema dropped the doorknob as Edgeworth pulled it all the way open, gesturing for her to enter. Ushering her onto the couch, he sat beside her, picking up a cup of tea on the table and nodding toward her own. His first sentence was pathetically blunt.

"I'm not good at this kind of talk."

Ema bit back the retort that rose automatically on her tongue—"that's nice, Mr. Edgeworth"—after all, she owed him too much. Instead, she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, opening her mouth. Nothing came out. She narrowed her own eyebrows at herself, turning to the window as she tossed another Snackoo onto her tongue before placing her bag neatly onto the table.

"...Lana wrote me today, you know?"

"Oh?" His tone was as flat as a question could be, conveying the minimal confusion needed for any question and little more.

"It was the first time we had communicated…in half a year. And it was so…informal. Like nothing had happened, in half a year."

"Half a—wait." Mr. Edgeworth froze his teacup, inches from his lips, eyebrows raised and narrowed simultaneously—possible only for the magenta-clad prosecutor. "Six months. Didn't you return to America—"

"—Yeah, six months ago," she replied quickly, wincing inwardly at her own rudeness. "I've been writing her regularly, you know, at every new development, about how everyone we knew has turned out and who everyone I now know is…and it just would have been nice to hear her say something, you know? I had preferences, at first, of course—I couldn't take any more pity for failing that test and Mr. Wright was always something of a subject I didn't _want_ to touch, like not talking about it wouldn't make it real." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her superior's hand tense on his handle. For a portion of a second, she wondered how in touch to Mr. Wright he was now—then dismissed the notion, continuing on her long-winded rant. "But…after a couple of months, it stopped hurting, I stopped having a preference, and it would have been nice to hear _anything_ from her, you know? And now, all of a sudden, I hear from her—but what _do_ I hear from her? It's all about what's happening on her side—which isn't selfish of her or anything, since all of my letters have been completely about what's happening on my side…but still, I sent those _before_ I heard from her. If I had heard from her before, I would have replied—I care about her too. And she barely even mentioned me. It was like I hadn't written to her either….and it hurt."

Mr. Edgeworth was completely quiet, not speaking or moving, still stoic, a statue, teacup still close to his pursed lips.

"…While you were in Europe, I faked a suicide."

"Huh?"

For ten single seconds, Ema was caught by surprise at both the sudden topic change and the topic it changed to. She hadn't known about it, which, now that she thought about it in greater detail, was kind of expected—after all, it would naturally be avoided, and she hadn't been visiting him very often. Collecting herself and surveying the situation from a detective's point of view, she looked at cool, collected Edgeworth. He looked as though he had not changed, even a little bit, since she had last seen him—impeccable cravat, perfectly pressed magenta suit, and an expression that could quail the strongest men, the sturdiest alibi. It was hard to imagine that he would ever lose it. Hard to admit he would fake a suicide.

"Mr. Edgeworth, what happened?" That first awkward barrier out of the way, the questions poured through. "Where did you hide? Who knew? What did you do? How long? What happened when you came back?"

"Let me answer that, one after another. You remember at the end of your sister's trial, right?"

"What about the end?" Shoving a finger under her chin and staring off into the distance, she absentmindedly reached for her tea. Mr. Edgeworth was one of the people whose more presence could take the edge off of her Snackoo cravings. "There was so much going on…I…"

"What Damon Gant said…to me. Perhaps you don't remember. I don't even know if you were there, it's been so long, and what he said was what I was focused on. But I think I saw you."

"I was there. He said…he said you were just like him. You can't take down criminals by yourself. And someday you would understand."

"That is correct." He finally moved, placing his tea down and leaning toward her. It was an Edgeworth attempt at sympathy, and she took it with a smile. "I needed time to think. I was…troubled. That I would end up carrying that same twisted legacy."

"Oh, come on, Mr. Edgeworth .You're too nice. I _met_ you. Anyone would support you. Mr. Wright, me, his assistant, Maya, my sister, anyone who knew you well enough. They'd all say it. Besides, that's not _you_."

"Isn't it, though?" His gaze shifted two inches, over her shoulder, toward the window on the wall. Looking back, she saw the skyline rimmed with gold and gray, sun peeking through clouds onto iron buildings. Ema nodded at the glass behind her, thought back to the fact, analyzed the distance from office to ground yet again. Finality, release, in 3.34 seconds. "That's the way I was brought up, wasn't it?"

"Von Karma…" Ema took a sharp intake of breath. She had heard the story behind it from Phoenix before she had left. She faced Edgeworth again, abandoning her view out the window. "What did you do?"

"I ran. I ran to Germany again, to my beginning with the Karmas. I wanted to talk to…my sister. Franziska von Karma. She had no doubt heard of his death…I needed someone who understood the shock I was feeling, the utter betrayal. And she, who was in the same household as me, who was in almost every way of the word was my sister, would be the only one who understood." He shook his head, clearing thoughts. "But she was gone. I talked to only one of the servants in the manor. The oldest maid, the only one there. All the others had been fired. I talked to Greta…" He blinked yet again, slowly. "Franziska had abandoned the manor. She had abandoned her family, her father, the legacy of the von Karma name. I felt proud of her. But she had gone to America…to avenge me." He managed a wry smile. "I had no idea what to feel. But I could not talk to her. I lost my resolution to tell her. I don't know…" He smiled. "The prosecutorial journey was one I took by myself, and I felt like she should too."

"At any rate, I stayed in the von Karma manor, with only Greta who knew. Gumshoe knew too. He found my suicide note before anyone even got there, and caught up to me before I got the airport. It was on…odd…confrontation, but in the end, I agreed we'd stay in touch."

Ema thought back to Gumshoe, bumbling and clumsy manner, straightforward and blunt terms. It was hard to imagine them working together that well. It was hard to imagine them as friends. Nevertheless, she supposed that it was something that he got used to with time.

"At any rate, I talked to a variety of von Karma's colleagues, old acquaintances, people at the Prosecutor's Office in Germany…and I swore them to secrecy. A lot of my friends knew, actually. Just not in this country."

"…I guess that makes sense. So, when did you come back?"

"…It took, I think, about a year. A little more, a little less. I don't know. When I came back…there was a period of time, a couple of the worst days of my life, when my friends didn't understand, abandoned me…and then, finally, they knew. Even my sister, stubborn wild mare…started understanding. My trip had changed not only myself, but everyone I knew. For the better."

"…Thanks, Mr. Edgeworth, but why are you telling me this?"

"Tell me, what has your sister been saying about that case with Damon Gant?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. But when we bring him up she still turns kind of cold."

"Then maybe she needs time to think too."

Patting her shoulder in the most comforting gesture Ema had ever seen him perform, he gave a small smile. She returned it, but wryly. Edgeworth dropped his expression, narrowing his eyes once more.

"But am I correct in thinking that is not the only thing troubling you?"

"…You're right." She gave another small, slightly wistful smile. "I can't hide anything from you, Mr. Edgeworth, can I?"

When he didn't reply to the comment—which, now that she thought in retrospect, sounded a bit like she was trying to rile him up—she continued. "It's me…failing the forensics test. I just feel like I've failed my dream, my _purpose…_but I still might have kept my old personality, my naturally positive outlook. That is, until I realized Mr. Wright had been disbarred."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Again, his hand clenched around his cup at the mention of the ex-defense attorney's name.

"…I guess I realized that not having your dream, your job, your purpose…could break everything you thought of. That when you lose your purpose, it's hard to find a new one…and even then, it doesn't fit. Like trying on the wrong size of clothes." She chomped another Snackoo, cracking whatever made it crunch between her teeth. "That's kind of what being a detective is like…I couldn't identify the feeling. But after I talked to Mr. Wright—Phoenix, I mean—I started to realize. Our ideals are always the same, even after we lose our purpose…but our personalities, and the way we get to our ideals…they change."

"You're right." His mouth was firm. "Wright has changed…perhaps too much."

Ema shot him a glance. His hand was trembling, and he looked as if he was going to be sick. It was only to be expected—he had known him a hundred times better than she had. Softly, she stretched out her hand.

"…Maybe he's taking the time to find himself again too."

"You're right." A small smirk, an upward turn of his mouth, and Ema was surprised at the way it made an impact on his entire face. "…What is your ideal?"

"That's easy." Her voice was quick and sharp. "To use my skills, my science, everything I'm good at—to use these to help find and protect the truth." Her scowl returned. "Unfortunately, I can't use my science with my job because of all these stupid regulations…and the law has _so many _gray areas. It does a pretty decent job, considering the difficulty. I just wish sometimes, it would do something more."

Miles Edgeworth blinked and smiled before standing up, striding toward his desk, and resolutely yanking out a drawer. From the little crevice he produced a thin slip of rice paper—texturized, made almost exclusively in Asia—with a black insignia stamped on. The shape of three wings, a sphere, and two legs, with a stylized border.

"You remind me of another girl I know, who very recently, told me something very similar." The smile on his face grew wider. "The difference is that she already has a way to accomplish it while you do not."

Ema felt her own shoulders sag considerably, as if the weight depressing on it had been intensified. Great. Others, Edgeworth's assistant no doubt, had found their way to their success, their key, their purpose…and Ema was simply broken. If she had no purpose, what was she?

However, instead of replacing the card into his desk, Edgeworth walked a wide circle around his desk and helped Ema up with one hand, the other offering her the card. As she stood up and he led her toward the door by hand, he smiled.

"She does, however…need help. And perhaps you can be the one to offer that. After all, a mutual goal is incentive enough. And I think she'll remind you quite a lot…of, well, you."

The way he said it, though, made Ema think twice. It was then that it dawned on her—when he said 'you,' he did not mean Snackoo-cramming, sharp-tongued, short-fused Detective Ema Skye. He was talking about the optimistic, enthusiastic, smiling girl that she had once possibly known herself. That had once even existed.

He bent over and picked up her fallen case file, surprisingly still intact in the middle of the commonly-used hallway. Placing the card in the metallic tab that held the cover in place, he winked, smiled again—Edgeworth really had changed, hadn't he?—and held it out to her.

"Think it over." The door closed.

Ema stood in the hall for what seemed like at least fourteen eternities before it dawned on her that she had forgotten her Snackoos on the coffee table.

"Then again," she murmured to herself, plucking the card off the top, flipping it over to reveal flawless cursive writing, and pushing it into her pocket. "Perhaps I don't really need them."

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"I do," said a voice from miles away. Was it her? It didn't seem like it. Now that she thought of it, it wasn't her. Someone much more deserving of the position, much more honorable, much more…_there…_spoke. "I take up the power of the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique. I place my faith into the practices of Ami Fey, my ancestor above all, and call upon both the wisdom of the dead and the past to guide me toward possibility and the future."

A solid, wooden, smooth-polished cane entered the palms of the girl.

"Rise, my dear."

As one, when the newest master rose, the audience rose with her. Maya stood, shaking out the stiffness in her limbs. The welcoming of a new master into the village was a ceremony of great rarity and importance, and it was considered an honor to be one of the Mystics great enough to be invited. Maya herself did not clap, frozen solid in her space, relishing the finality, the end, of the moment, of an age.

"Kurain Village greets you…"

Mystic Myrtle, the oldest of the Feys, raised her quicksilver eyes up to the Master.

"…Pearl Fey, the newest Master of Kurain Village."

Pearl nodded solemnly, placing the butt of the cane-sword onto the polished tile with a bang. It was short and concise, but rang through Maya's ears for an eternity.

"...It is an undeserved privilege that I have to stand before you."

It was tradition, the same words every master said at every initiation. Pearl, however, glanced for the briefest moment at Maya as she spoke, unspoken continuation apparent—_and everyone knows it._

* * *

The celebration swirled around Maya like a wave, a multicolored ribbon of conversation and clinking glasses trying to wrap her up and sweep her away. She stood firm, however, stoic as stone as she sat cross legged behind the folding mat. In her lap was a slim glass of weak alcohol. Her hand trailed down her leg, dipping lazily into the drink. The room pounded with her heart.

Maya's head throbbed as she tilted her head back, delivering her swirling pinky from her drink to her mouth. Bitter, harsh cold. A grin dotted her mouth as she listened to Pearl's voice, muffled and gracious, directed to guests_. This must be what a hangover feels like,_ she thought, lolling her head sideways. Maya wished she had been brave enough to drown her sorrows. In reality, all she had done was sit under a waterfall waiting for a miracle-until time had either ended or no longer mattered. The coward's way out. Drinking grape juice when you promised wine.

_Nick drinks grape juice._ The thought presented itself to her as her head turned and she looked out the gap between folding screen and wall toward the Greater Magatama. Green emerald winked back. Maya's fingers fumbled and found the base of her neck, where her spiritually charged charm would have been.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she closed her eyes, tried to forget, one thought leaking through the barrier.

_I wonder what Nick is doing._ The idea was bitter, neon blue and gray, the shades of a forgotten attorney, abandoned legacy.

_I wonder if he, too, is trying to forget…_

Nick. When was the last time she had talked to him? Weeks, months, years? He had become a stranger to her, which was painful in and of itself-however, he had become more than that. He had become a stranger to the world.

There were days, five-minute phone conversations, Trucy or Apollo interruptions, when Maya just wanted to scream at him, yell at him, slap him, demand an answer. _Where have you gone?! Where has Phoenix Wright, the lawyer, Nick, my __**friend,**__ gone?! When did you come and replace him with a shell that can barely look at me, let alone talk to me?!_

She hated staying strong for people. Especially for the strongest.

She hated staying strong for Nick. But she didn't exactly have a choice.

She had to wonder, though, when their friendship became hard work.

Standing up, Maya came to her decision-she could not stand one second among all these people crowing over Pearl's gain and, unknowingly, her own pain. Slipping between the cracks of Elders, Maya heard Pearl, miles away-"Mystic Maya?"

_That's right, _she thought bitterly, striding out the door without turning or replying. _And that's all I'll ever be. A Mystic. Never a Master._

_And Nick, it's all because of you._

* * *

Maya's favorite training place was sitting cross-legged, arms folded, in front of a waterfall. Lighting a single scented incense stick-pine, barely there but still strong enough to be present despite the fresh scent of running water- and immersing herself into the cold water that turned colder at night, Maya took a breath and suppressed her shivers. She loosened every muscle and was surprised at how much warmer she felt all of a sudden. How much more natural, as if she was just another ripple in the waterfall. A cold fold of silky white water. Gone in a single heartbeat.

Why had she given up the Mastership, anyway? That's right, she remembered, scolding herself. Given up. You offered it to Pearl of your own accord. You have other things to live for.

_Then why do I feel like I've lost everything?_

_Not everything,_ she thought back to herself. _Just...a fundamental part. You've lost a fundamental part. I won't pretend it will ever heal. But eventually, I will get used to it._

_Betrayal,_ a voice hissed in reply. _You've abandoned the legacy that Misty died for, that Mia gave up for you. How can you call yourself your mother's daughter? Look at the people whose lives you have wasted—Mr. Armando, Misty, Mia, Iris, Morgan, Pearl, even by extension Dahlia, who is your cousin and human as much as she is evil. No life should be wasted. And yet you have sold your soul and seven lives you have no right to sell, for one. Phoenix Wright._

Maya pursed her lips, inhaling the calming pine and choosing to tactfully ignore the last name. _Yes, but I'm also doing this so no more lives have to be sold. With this move, Morgan will finally be calmed. And with that…no one else will have to fight. No one._

_Liar,_ the voice said yet again, another insult. _There will always be more villains. And Dahlia herself has admitted it is not Pearl that Morgan cares about. It is her branch of the family. And if Pearl keeps the promise she made to you, she will soon pass a decree that states any branch family directly connected, by sister or mother, to the current master can become the successor—whoever has the strongest spiritual power in the direct family. If it is your daughter, then Morgan will strike again. _

"You don't know that for sure," she whispered to herself defensively, willpower pushing her thoughts into sound.

_Exactly. You don't know that for sure…your way, either._

Standing up resolutely, Maya grabbed her cloak, looking around before lifting her head to the sky. She had always thought her mother and sister might have been watching her from the heavens.

"I'm tired of wondering," she said conversationally. "Let's go figure things out."

* * *

"Solitary Confinement Cell Number 3," she whispered at the front door, nodding at the guard. He didn't look up from his badge, which he was polishing with an old rag. Maya was painfully reminded of Nick.

"Civilians not allowed. This is _Solitary _Confinement. Play elsewhere, girl…" He looked up took in Maya's features. His eyes narrowed slightly, then widened in realization.

"Aren't you Phoenix Wright's—?"

"Cell three."

After the incident with her mother, Morgan had been moved back to a safer correctional facility—the detention center had been deemed too open, and she had been put back into emptiness. No other doomed to talk to beside her. Maya didn't know how she'd stand it—Maya would have gone crazy. The words would have exploded out of her, and she would have ended up being one of those cackling prisoners with sunken eyeholes, hanging jumpsuits, babbling at thin air because it would be the only thing listening. Another debt, another 'what if' that she now owed Nick for.

Yet when she walked into Solitary Cell 3, she was surprised at how _normal_ Morgan looked. Sitting comfortably in the purple armchair next to the small tea table, she set down her china carefully, the pewter tea tray bigger than the entire table, balancing precariously, at odds with the fine china marked with small magatamas. A small miniature cabinet held a vase of roses and a simple picture frame with Pearl inside. The bookshelf in the back held scrolls of animal skin, cracking at corners, parchment books, and more recent textbooks. Every single one was embroidered with the swirling charmed crest of the Kurain Village. The red brick walls, while beginning to crumble slightly, were still locked neatly intact.

The only thing that showed the distinction between the cell and a regular living room was the barred window, feet high, and the wall-length gate that took up one entire side of the room. Looking out it, Maya was faced with the faces of the others in Solitary Confinement. If she squinted diagonally, she could see the purple suit of Kristoph Gavin.

"My Pearl, I—" The china cup clattered to the carpeted slate-colored floor, not quite shattering, as Morgan's calm demeanor disappeared. Instead of her secretive sideways glance, she turned to face her head on, her eyes shifting so that only the whites turned to face her, ghostly.

For a split second, it was a stand-off, niece on aunt. Maya was so very tempted to channel Mia just to get away and give her aunt a hard time.

Morgan, however, did not react. She simply turned away, picked up her tea, and continued sipping, hauling her chair around so she would not have to face Maya. As Maya collapsed onto the carpet, she thought about what to talk about. There was nothing to do except keep going forward.

"…The Master Initiation Ceremony was today."

Morgan's head titled, and Maya caught a single facet of her face over the wing of the armchair-the corner of a stern, trembling mouth that flickered between a sadistic, hysterical smile and a harsh frown. Then her face turned, her tone was calm, and Maya was staring at the back of a chair again.

"I trust the celebration put you in good spirits."

"Hardly." A wry smile grew on Maya's lips. She felt like she was talking with her _aunt_ again, small talk after a hard training, not motive in a dark prison cell in solitary confinement. "The celebration continues as we speak. I ditched it."

"Huh." Morgan took a sip of tea. "You are definitely different. Many people would kill to be the Master at the Master Initiation Ceremony."

Morgan did not often use figures of speech. Maya knew she mean what she said. People would have killed to be the Master. And Morgan was one of them.

"Oh, but I wasn't the Master there."

"What?"

Maya recoiled slightly. Morgan had spoken up sharply, like a bullet to the heart, almost immediately. Nevertheless, she replied, trying to sound defiant. It occurred then to her, in solitary confinement next to an angry Morgan without restraints, that her aunt could attack her and managed to cause serious damage before the guard got inside and stopped her.

"…Pearl is the Master of Kurain."

The chair scraped against the hardwood under the carpet—it was status alone that got Morgan Cell 3 and with it, small creature comforts—as the chair turned. Morgan's face was downturned, buried in her tea cup. A small, almost timid slurping was the only noise. Almost every prisoner was listening in on their conversation.

_Of course. _Inwardly, Maya grimaced. _They're in Solitary Confinement. They must talk among themselves. They must all have heard about her motive. _

_And now, they have all heard how it was in vain._

Almost immediately, another, almost traitorous thought entered her head.

_Morgan didn't deserve to have all her hard work done for something that was going to happen anyway._

Then again, she reasoned to herself. If Morgan had not done that hard work, there was a high probability she would not have met Nick. And if that had happened, then Pearl would never have become the Master. But then Mia might have been the Master instead, or just introduced her to Nick anyway, and then that might have _caused_ Morgan to start…

The circle made her head hurt, so Maya abandoned the chicken-and-egg-type paradox and observed her aunt more intently. Morgan's face was still carefully hidden in her teacup, and when she spoke, it was careful, as if confessing a fault.

"…Thank you."

"Don't. I wanted to keep that position badly, as much as you wanted to give it to Pearl." Maya's voice began to shake, thinking about what she had given up and what for. Roughly, she wiped her tears on the book of her sleeve. Not for once, she longed to channel herself into that floating nothingness between spirit and reality. "But…circumstances."

It was not necessarily full redemption, or complete gratitude. But it was enough for aunt and niece. Morgan put down her teacup and leaned forward, searching Maya's eyes. Finally, she leaned back. Maya wondered what she had seen.

"…This friend of yours. Mr. Phoenix Wright."

Maya saw Kristoph Gavin's head turn at the mention, practically his only movement through the entire conversation. Light glinted off his sleek hair.

_I wonder what he is thinking, too…_

She turned her attention back to her aunt as Morgan waved her hand at the guard outside the bars who was trying to look as if he wasn't eavesdropping. He jumped into motion, fumbling with the lock, and Maya knew, as always, that the prisoner once again called the shots to symbolize when the meeting was almost over.

"…You are willing to sacrifice this much for him?"

Maya's mouth flew open, shock apparent. "How did you—"

"Talk to him." Morgan's voice was one Maya knew well, reminiscent to that of scolding a medium caught for ditching training. Authoritative, yet kind. How long had it been since she'd heard the tone and believed it to be sincere? "Talk to him now. It's too late for me, but the world will do better if more of us forgive."

* * *

She called Phoenix from the pay phone at Solitary Confinement. Through one window wired in a crisscross pattern to keep the glass in place in case of any emergency, she could catch a glimpse of Morgan's slight nod and Kristoph's withering glance.

"Hello, you've reached Phoenix Wright's cell phone."

Maya bit her lower lip. Was it Phoenix's answering machine talking to her, words without meaning placed on a tape and available to everyone? Or…

"You've caught me at a good time. Who is this?"

While Maya physically almost felt herself sag in relieve, her nerves stood on end. Had it been a month? Her voice came out a high-pitched, excited squeak that made herself cringe.

"Nick?!"

"Oh…"

Maya felt a smile blooming across her face. He always recognized her, and it gave her the feeling that, in a way, they still knew each other well. That, and the feeling she got just hearing his voice again. Steady and sure, it always seemed to give her light in her darkest time, that ever-hopeful tone.

"…Who is this?"

Time froze. Maya's sense flickered, switching into overdrive, hyperawareness—her clothes, rough on her skin, the tug of her hair beads on her head, guards glaring at her quizzically, light overhead assaulted by buzzing insects, smell of antiseptic. Just as rapidly, they dipped, senses numbing, and nothing existed but the phone in her hand and the other end of the line.

When she spoke, her voice was nowhere near as incredulous as she felt, instead a monotonous deadpan.

"You don't recognize me, Nick."

It was not a question. It was a fact Maya was stating to herself, making herself believe was real. Phoenix was merely an eavesdropper, a visitor, a barrier between her and her own thoughts.

His voice cut through her thoughts too harshly, like a chainsaw used to slice butter.

"Okay, who are you? And why are you calling me Nick? Only my closest friends still call me that," he added coolly, placing emphasis on 'closest' and 'still.' Maya knew it was just because he didn't know who she was—that he would never actually say that to her—but in that moment, they sounded all too real.. What had she been to Phoenix? A friend, or just an annoying sidekick, dead boss's little sister?

"So I would appreciate it if _you _wouldn't—"

How long had it taken for him to not recognize her by voice?

"Goodbye, Nick."

She tore the phone from her ear, the tears in her eyes blurring objects into kaleidoscope colors and mixing them in her eyes, a spiral of gray defeat turned sour. Dimly, Maya heard Phoenix on the other end, the tinny rasp that occurs whenever the phone is already too far from your ear to matter. At first, it was a pause, the sound of Phoenix breathing as Maya tried to slam the receiver onto the jammed clip. Then, suddenly, there was a cry of realization.

"Maya?!"

At the mention of her name, Maya couldn't help but laugh. It came out a strangled cough, almost unidentifiable. There was a fumbling sound on the other end.

"Oh, gosh, Maya, I'm so sorry, I—"

The tab went down with the receiver, and Maya gave a grim smile. She looked into the window, at Aunt Morgan, and shook her head. No for failure.

_I came to a decision. The Miles Edgeworth I knew had died a long time ago._

"I could say the same for you, Nick," mused Maya aloud, tracing the pay phone with her finger. As if in reply, almost immediately, it rang. Jumping and recovering from her temporary shock, she picked it up. Her friend started without preamble.

"Listen, Maya, I really am very sorry. It's just that it's been a weird day—I talked to the judge again about the Jurist System today and I think—"

"That's it?" Maya's choking laugh threatened to make a reappearance. "You just say 'I'm sorry' and expect me to act like absolutely nothing just happened?"

"Not really…" There was a sigh. "But—"

Maya cut him off again, beginning to feel suspiciously like she was losing it. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been, trying to talk to someone who's given up? I feel like I know the 'now' you, the new Phoenix, like a person I've vaguely heard about or a stranger I saw just across the street, just once, a flicker of the new Phoenix on your old face in one of your worse moods. And that, even more horrifying, you're _okay_ with becoming this new person. You've given up, like I said before. Like I'm trying to fight hard enough for both of us, which I can't."

"Maya…I'm…" He stopped, continued speaking in a more careful tone. "…I…I'll try to make it up to you, I swear."

"How? By talking on the phone until your mouth goes numb?" Sorrow replaced with anger, her foot began to tap impatiently. "Nick, that's not gonna cut it. You'd better look me in the eye and _mean_ you're sorry before I even _consider_ forgiving you."

Maya considered adding her customary 'and buy me burgers,' but decided against it. She was, for once, completely serious—despite how much she sounded like a whining child.

"I know," Phoenix replied unexpectedly. "Look behind you."

Maya whirled on her heel. One hand pressing his phone to his ear, other holding the door he was still only on the threshold on, smile on his face, was Phoenix.

Again, Maya's vision swirled, finally focusing itself onto the man with the blue beanie. Her limbs acted of their own accord, and before she knew it, she had tackled Nick into a hug, staggering them both back a few feet.

"NIIIIIIIIICK!"

"Whatever happened to 'before I even think about forgiving you?" Phoenix chuckled, and Maya hummed as she buried her face into his old sweatshirt. That was the thing she liked most about Nick—no matter what she was feeling, how he was doing, whenever anyone just needed a presence, he was always warm and _there. _It was comforting. No matter what the situation, she was still always covered.

"Haha, very funny." Leaning back, she gave him a quick glance and smirked. "You know I can't keep grudges. Anyway, how'd you get here so quickly, Nick? Don't tell me you were already on the way here?"

"Actually…I wanted to talk to Kristoph Gavin about the Jurist System and how it might succeed. He hasn't heard about it yet…." Maya lifted her head and watched him as he stared off away into the distance, blinking. "On second thought…maybe it's best he figures out on his own."

"You've frightened me, Nick, if that's what you're going for."

Phoenix regained his smile and abandoned his lost look, glancing down as Maya once again stuffed her face into the soft material. "Well, that's no surprise. I frighten a lot of people nowadays."

"Well, no wonder." Arms still wrapped loosely around her long-lost friend, she managed to look him up and down. Adopting a playful tone to show she was joking, she gave him a critical gaze. "You still look like a hobo. I told you, you can't be seen with me unless you dress decently. Kurain's picky about clothing."

"By dressing their mediums like this?" Nick loosened one arm to gesture at the exuberant purple gown with an amused stare as Maya puffed out her cheeks with false indignation.

"Haha, I mean, they're picky _about_ dressing us like this. This is practically an unofficial dress code."

"Well, when you're the master, you can change that."

Maya paused, thinking carefully about how to break her news. In the end, she decided on immediately. "Actually, the Master Initiation was today."

"Really?!" Nick's smile widened. Maya contemplated staying silent again, but could not bear to hear the thanks coming from Nick. She could not play dumb to him, listen to the unbearable torture. "That's great, Maya! I—"

"Pearl is the Master." Not quite glum, but night quite completely calm.

"…" Still beneath her arms, Phoenix suddenly stiffened. Maya didn't dare look up from the pliable gray. Finally, he spoke. One shattering word. Maya restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

"…_What?!_"

"Real articulate, Nick," Maya smiled affectionately, finally retreating and ending the long-winded hug, to slap his forearm for emphasis. "Seriously."

"…Maya. Why. Did. You. Give. Up. The. Mastership?!"

"…Nick." Maya sobered quickly, catching his stern expression. "Maybe you haven't gathered this, from our limited conversation…but I don't have many things to live for. It's not a depressing statement," Maya added quickly as Phoenix's face paled. "It's a fact. I've lost so many people dear to me. But I got through…because I was always busy, when I was with _you._ But now, well…I can't work with you, you wouldn't let me…and all I had left was the Mastership. However, you know I don't want to lose anyone else. And Morgan, my Aunt…I know her. She will find a way. Any way. And even if she can't, the Master always has enemies. Who'll be next? You? Pearl?" Maya sighed. "I can't do that. With Pearl…at least Morgan's wrath is satisfied. And everybody likes Pearl…maybe this tradition will stop with her."

"So that's why you gave up the Mastership." Phoenix mulled it over, coming to a conclusion in seconds—in some ways, being disbarred had made him more observant and logical than being a lawyer had been. "But you wouldn't put Pearls in possible danger for nothing. You've got to have another reason."

"…You always know everything." Mock pouting, Maya turned away. "Fine. Like I said, working with you put me out of my misery, took my mind off all the people I'd lost, gave me another purpose. I wanted to work with you again, go to all these places, just actively working for the good again. So I was wondering if I could join your…what is it now? Anything Agency?"

"Maya—"

"I promise I can work. I can channel dead people, after all. And my sister could help, I haven't talked to her lately. Last time was when, well…"

"I got disbarred," Phoenix guessed correctly, putting it bluntly. His expression was stern, as if getting something over with to get to the main point. Surely enough, he gripped her shoulders, ratting her until her teeth began to chatter. In ways, Nick occasionally underestimate himself. "Listen, Maya, you _can not_ work at the Anything Agency."

"I know it's not ideal. I know it's failing. But let me work with you again. Maybe I can help." Maya glared defiantly at him. "I'm not a _kid_ anymore, Nick!"

"I haven't thought of you as one since Matt Engarde," Nick replied, straightening and shoving his hands into his pockets, glare still prominent. He closed his eyes, counted backward. "But I just…listen to me, Maya." His eyes opened again. "Pearl's already the Master of Kurain. I will _not_ let you have had your Mastership thrown away for some thirty-or-so-year-old cheater who plays poker for a living."

"Nick, you are _not_ a cheater! Stop putting yourself down like this!"

"And Maya, you deserve that Mastership—if you've given up that, you at least deserve more than this!" Shaking his head, Nick turned toward the glass window, grimacing as his stare met Kristoph Gavin's. "Tell me straight—what exactly do you want and did you come here to get?!"

"The truth, Nick! I want the truth—about me, you, everything!"

It was then that Maya became acutely aware that almost every gaze was turned onto their conversation. Morgan staring, Kristoph staring, guards staring, and now even Phoenix was staring in mild shock—screw it, who wasn't staring? They had a right too, as well. Maya probably sounded like she was hysterical.

Phoenix's face flickered through a myriad of emotions, none of which Maya could catch, before finally setting on a wan smile that made Maya again stand straight with anticipated relief. The next sentence, therefore, was a fatal blow.

"I can't hire you at the Anything Agency."

"Nick—"

"No, Maya." Pursing his lips as if swallowing a lemon, Nick folded his arms in a stance that conveyed 'that's final.' "There are things going on that you don't understand—that _I_ don't understand. I'm working alone, undercover, not even Apollo and Trucy know about it. If I employed you, you'd find a way to figure out. You know me too well, for too long."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Perhaps, but not in this case." As Maya slumped again, Phoenix grinned at her, the hopeful tinge back again.

"However…there is someone who can help."

"Huh?" Maya raised her head, wondering whether to be frightened or excited. As Nick's expression brightened, she got the distinct impression she had just been tossed a lifesaver.

Instead of answering the unspoken question, Nick replied with another one—"are you willing to find out the truth, no matter what the cost?"

Maya thought back to blue-suit days, days when she'd run alongside Nick and Pearl to catch up to a crime scene, race to find a clue before a trial, point out contradictions for Nick to present as his own—their own. She thought back to black and white, her sister's scarf flying as she whipped her finger toward the prosecution. She thought of gold badges pinned on lapels and files in hand, swirling lines of microscript salvation. She thought to more recent days, hopeless defeat that she had to get to the bottom of, fuelled by the prospect of a comeback of another, happier, younger Phoenix Wright.

"…Yes."

Phoenix smiled yet again, flashing his grin victoriously to Kristoph Gavin. The prisoner scowled in return, two polar opposites of equal degrees, until Phoenix abruptly broke the contest and turned back to Maya. For the first time in a while, Maya caught a glimpse of steely, reckless determination.

"If that's the case, then maybe I can help."

* * *

"So you're Ms. Fey." As Maya nodded firmly, Apollo Justice caught a glimpse of Nick's 'intimidation face' and paled. Maya almost laughed. "Er…I'm Apollo Justice…and I—I—"

"And he's fine," interrupted the girl bouncing on her heels in front of Maya . She was wearing a blue magicians outfit that Maya was familiar with—watching the Steel Samurai brought her plenty of commercials, some of which advertised a certain Troupe Gramarye. "I'm Trucy Wright! Are you our new mommy?"

"Definitely not," both Phoenix and Maya said at the same time. While Trucy, pouting and out of entertainment, went to bug 'Polly,' Phoenix shuffled over to Maya and leaned over. "That girl would get along great with Pearls."

"Let's agree on that," she laughed as Nick walked into the lone office that mostly contained Apollo's paperwork nowadays, striding out a second later. "What was that for?"

"Taxi fare. We're going to the Prosecutor's Office."

"Prosecutor?" Tilting her head, Maya raised an eyebrow with difficulty. It had been a while since she'd gone there, and never on official case business—although she'd heard Phoenix had once while she had been in Kurain. "What for?"

"We're paying a visit to a certain triple-cravated gentleman who hasn't changed a bit," muttered Phoenix. Was it just Maya, or was that frown tugging on the corners of his mouth? "Old-fashioned values die hard."

"Edgeworth's always been an old-fashioned over-achiever, though." Still tilting a head sideways in confusion, she perked up at one amusing thought. "Hey, Nick! If Kurain disapproves of your outfit, what does Mr. Edgeworth say?"

A muscle in Phoenix's jaw twitched ominously as he turned, not exactly bitter but borderlining resentment. When he spoke, there was no playful tone to counteract his harsh words.

"You know, there's another meaning to the word 'outfit' when you use it like that." Nodding to Apollo and Trucy, he gestured to Maya out the door, slamming it behind them. "If you look at it in a certain way, it means my personality, my current lot in life." Turning away from her with that same blank expression, Maya's blood abruptly ran cold. "In that way, you're right—Edgeworth dislikes my current outfit." Stepping into the street, his hand raised and a taxi screeched to a stop in front of him as he turned almost angrily to Maya. "And in every other way? He just doesn't care."

The ride to the Prosecutor's Office was quiet.

* * *

"Page me through to Miles Edgeworth," Phoenix absentmindedly told the awestruck girl at the front desk. She was looking at him with a mixture of awe and alarm.

_Looks like Nick is as well-known as ever…although perhaps for entirely different reasons._

Finally, the girl pressed a single button from the array in front of her, not taking her eyes from Nick's face. The voice sounded suddenly over speaker, and Maya couldn't help but grin at Edgeworth's voice. "What is it, Sunny?"

"Um, sir…" The girl cleared her throat and spoke again, voice more authoritative. "Sir, there are two people here to see you."

"Who might that be?" The crisp voice turned slightly sour. "Sunny, I don't think I have any appointments today and I'm in the middle of a lot of paperwork following that Cadaverini trial. I wasted enough time this morning talking with Detective Skye—"

"Sir…it's Phoenix Wright."

There was a pause before Edgeworth spoke, tone slightly more formal, directly to Phoenix.

"…Wright. What is it?"

Phoenix turned to the bemused girl in nonverbal reply. "Well, Sunny? What is it?"

The girl behind the desk gave a start, looking suspicious like she wanted to hide in a hole. "Um…sir, are you addressing me?"

"Your name is Sunny, right?"

"Wright!" Edgeworth seemed to be reaching the end of his tether. Maya was amazed, really, at how quickly and effectively Phoenix could unseat Edgeworth even twelve floors away. "Stop playing mind games with the girl! What is it, exactly?"

Phoenix had not, it seemed, finished his fun. He persisted, now bearing one of his more serious courtroom faces. "Well, Sunny?"

"Um…well…" Regaining a modicum of composure and deciding to play along, she glanced over. "There's also…a girl…cosplaying?"

Straightening her kimono stubbornly, Maya jutted out her lip and turned to the speaker. "I'm wearing a kimono, Mr. Edgeworth—that's all you need to know. It's Maya, by the way."

"Ah, Ms. Fey…" Edgeworth trailed off again. There was yet another pause. If Edgeworth had been physically present, Maya imagined he and Phoenix would be having one of those conversations through eyes, like they occasionally did just before cross-examinations. As it was, it was possible they were still communicating nonverbally—because after a minute, the prosecutor spoke.

"Okay, Wright, you win this time. Come on up. If Maya is really ready, her timing is perfect. Just this morning, I had a conversation with Ms. Skye."

"Ema and Maya in one day?" Phoenix chuckled, lax, completely at ease with first names. "You've been lucky, Edgeworth—or rather, Kay has. Where is she now, anyway?"

"Failed mission last night," he grunted in return. "She's moping in her father's office. Now get up here. Let's not waste Sunny's battery."

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Maya murmured, tapping a finger to her chin. "You want me to find the truth…by breaking the law?"

"In one word…yes." Phoenix took his coffee black, nodding thanks at Edgeworth who himself picked up a cup of tea. "You'll be working with a girl your age—Kay Faraday—and someone you already know, possibly—Ema Skye, if she agrees."

"Ema?" Maya had met her during one of her meetings with Phoenix—she'd taken an instant liking to the girl that was in many ways like her—before Ema had supposedly moved. "I thought she was in Europe."

"She returned half a month ago."

"Did she go into forensics, like she planned?" Chewing morosely on a Samurai Dog from the dish Edgeworth offered, Maya sighed. Another happy ending for someone else…

"Actually, no. She didn't." As Maya looked up, surprised, as Edgeworth managed to smile comfortingly at her. "You're not the only one who didn't get to have her dream."

"…Hm." She had chewed off the last of her Samurai Dog unconsciously—eating was something she did without thinking—and grabbed a cup of tea before watching them swirl to the bottom. "Is it a bad thing that I feel better?"

"Perhaps." Phoenix leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. "But the point is that I believe that, now that you have quit the Mastership, and considering I cannot let you nor anyone else work at the Anything Agency—" Here he looked at Edgeworth. "—I think it is now quite plausible for you to work as the Yatagarasu."

"…Mr. Edgeworth." He inclined his head, showing he was listening, though his gaze was fixed on the window. "How did you figure out what I was there for so quickly? Especially since Nick hadn't talked to you about it."

"Hm?" He turned, taking control of the situation as he always did. "Well, Nick and I had discussed recruiting new people, so when he mentioned you—well, he doesn't visit unless he has a purpose, and you're about Kay's age, and that was one of her qualifications. So I assumed—"

"I'm not going to lie to her, Edgeworth," interrupted Phoenix. "We talked about it—I was sure that you would sign up."

As Edgeworth sighed, sipping his tea while Phoenix glugged coffee, Maya turned incredulously to the ex-defense attorney. Opening her mouth, she gave a loud exclamation.

"Ah—! You assumed I was going to come back?"

"I suspected," he answered, finishing the cup with a last swig. "That you would want to work for something other than your training. I didn't think you'd quite the Mastership for it, but if you're going to make the full time commitment, perhaps it's just as well."

"Except for one thing," she muttered, as Phoenix motioned for another cup. Edgeworth sighed, grabbing another. "This is the last cup, Wright."

"Huh." Looking into it, he shrugged. "It's the seventeenth one, anyway. Coffee's what I drink when I don't have grape juice. Energy high, you know."

"Hey, isn't that the number that odd prosecutor—Godot?"

"…I guess." He looked off nonchalantly once again. "He made an impression on me. He's a bit like me, you know—people who have everything one minute and then figure out life is never that simple. I guess, also, that the old me has died too. Somewhat, sometimes."

"As long as you don't ask us to call you by a different name," remarked Edgeworth rather tiredly. At this point, Maya felt the need to speak up.

"Hello? Anyone gonna listen? I have one more thing—what makes you think I _will_ actually join this Yatagarasu thing?"

Both looked at her as if she were completely insane. It became apparent that they had obviously not even thought of that as a possible scenario.

"I—I mean…" Edgeworth looked to Phoenix (_Edgeworth looked to Phoenix? The world had turned insane since she was gone_) for one split second. Coughing lightly, he managed a weak smirk. "As sad as it is to say this, I believe Wright has put more thought into this than I have."

"It's one of my secret missions," he said bluntly, sitting back and sipping coffee.

Maya waited for an answer, eyes wide, hands occasionally flicking back and forth. Edgeworth sat down, sipping his tea, the two making almost identical motions.

"…Gonna say anything?"

Seventeenth cup of coffee finished, he placed the cup onto the table. He leaned forward and asked one single question.

"If you don't become the Yatagarasu, what are you going to do here?"

_What are you going to do here?_

Now that she thought about it, it was a truly valid question—and one she had not given much thought to when she asked. She had come to join Nick at the agency, and now hearing it was impossible, had been given the option of second best to take or leave.

The obvious logical option, from the person without any background knowledge, was to take the second best. However, the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a bad idea—for more mature, logical reasons. First off, it would mean giving in. If she joined the Yatagarasu, it would mean a lifetime of looking over her shoulder. Even if she no longer worked in it—whether she quit early or stuck with it until it finished its job and disbanded on its own—the Yatagarasu was a binding thing. One project and, as far as the law was concerned, you were in it for life—as a felon. She had read the headlines herself.

Which brought her to her next point—what she would be joining would be nothing short of a failing project. The headlines blared scathingly almost weekly, so much so Maya almost felt sorry for the Yatagarasu—the girl, she had been told less than an hour ago, that was two years younger than her. There wasn't even a detective on the case—that was how much of a joke the second Yatagarasu had become.

However, a pity party was not enough to make Maya join a mission.

Ema was joining. Maya had not been lying to Nick when she had said she had lost a lot of people. She had returned to the city hoping to regain some of her friendships, and Ema seemed like a good way to start. But, when it came to it, _was_ Ema joining? Maya didn't even know how far Ema had fallen, and didn't know how desperate she'd have to get to join the Yatagarasu.

The only logical things pushing her to join the Yatagarasu were Nick and Edgeworth's word. And Maya, after everything she'd been through, was sick of listening to other people's word.

However…

Her subconsciousness somehow balanced it out, convincing her that it was a worthwhile decision. There was no evidence—just a gut feeling that if she joined, she'd somehow help make it better. It wasn't perfect. But maybe a gut feeling was enough to make her reconsider.

The more she thought about it, the more she thought it was a bad idea. But life is always about reckless situations…right?

"Remember, Maya." Nick spoke up, speaking in a conversational tone veiling a faint type of reproachfullness. "This offer won't last forever."

"I know," she replied hoarsely, looking at her friends. She shoved one last Samurai Dog into her mouth, suddenly aware she had finished the plate. "But I'm banking on it lasting one more week. I'll give you my decision then."

* * *

_{Miles Edgeworth_

The door closed behind Phoenix Wright and Maya Fey almost synonymously with the ringing of his desk phone. Striding quickly to it, he glanced at the number on the fluorescent green screen. It was the in-office extension for the vacant office of the late top-prosecutor Byrne Faraday.

Kay. Edgeworth wasn't sure if the fact that she had called seconds after the others had left the room was a good thing or a bad thing.

Nevertheless, he picked up his phone quickly and spoke into the receiver—"What is it, Kay?"

"Geez, Mr. Edgeworth." Kay's tone, while still slightly heavy from the aftereffects of a good cry, was light and overall gave a 'not-to-be-taken-seriously' air. "Can't a girl talk to her friend without having a problem to solve?"

"A normal girl can," he answered seriously. "But a Great Thief snooping around her father's office with something to prove probably wouldn't. What is it, Kay?"

Kay's voice sounded defeated, a reluctant admittance that his guess was indeed right. "Mr. Edgeworth…I need to find those other two girls. Those that will complete the Yatagarasu."

Edgeworth blinked. Twice. "And this is news?"

"…Can you help me find them?"

"..I have two potential candidates, one of which will meet you at People Park tomorrow night and one that will give you a clear yes-or-no answer in a week."

"WHAT?!" Kay yelped, and Edgeworth ripped the receiver from his ear. "Mr. Edgeworth, how did you know I would need them? When did you start going to find them? When _did_ you actually find them? Why didn't you talk to me about these people before?"

"Today," he answered sharply, still slightly shaken by the sudden outburst. "As for your other questions, I've been looking since your first mission that you failed, since you told me you needed allies. As for why I haven't found any before today, that's because I don't exactly get the opportunity to come by many girls in their mid-twenties desperate to find the truth."

"Wait, that time after the first mission?! I was _joking_, Mr. Edgeworth!" Still shocked, Kay took a few deep breaths and seemingly calmed, leaving Edgeworth to get in a word.

"So are you serious _now?!_" Rather irked at Kay's indecisive nature—Edgeworth always meant everything he said—his voice sharpened. "Because if not, I've got to go tell Ema…"

"No," replied Kay decisively. "I'm serious—I need help. I figured that out last night. I'll meet the 'Already-Ready' girl tomorrow. As for that 'Week-Long-Waiting-List' girl—"

"You have the weirdest nicknames…" Edgeworth grumbled. "The first one is 'Ema' and the second one is 'Maya.'"

"Oh, I remember Ema! Gatewater Land, right?" Quickly getting back on tangent—surprising for the hyperactive girl—Kay plowed on. "Anyway, as far as that Maya goes, she might not make it…"

"What do you mean? You don't even know her!" Edgeworth, beginning to become slightly excited for the sake of his old friend, began to speak with his hands despite the fact Kay was not physically there to see it. "How can you pass judgment so quickly?"

"Well…you know how the original Yatagarasu had two lawyers and a detective?"

"Yes," Edgeworth said suspiciously. "And Ema happens to be a detective. So?"

"Really?" Kay squealed excitedly. "Great. All according to plan! In that case, I'm going to ask a prosecutor at this office! And since Maya's waiting a week and isn't a prosecutor—"

"…Kay." Speaking jerkingly, Edgeworth coughed. "There is only _one_ female prosecutor at this office that is your age. And that is…"

"Ms. Von Karma, I know. But I've met her before, and she's nice enough…"

She trailed off slightly, somewhat unsure, as Edgeworth once again took hold of the situation. "Kay, don't do it."

Edgeworth spoke seriously as he continued on, Kay occasionally trying to interrupt but failing every time. "Franziska may love the truth, but she has a different way of getting it that will not clash well with the Yatagarasu. Her pride will get you in trouble and her obsession with perfection will push your capacity to the limit. You may not know my little sister well enough, but I do. She is fit for the path of the prosecutor, but will not be able to juggle the double devotion of the Yatagarasu."

"But…Mr. Edgeworth…"

Kay sounded again on the verge of tears. For a single second, Edgeworth regretted what he said; he had once again pushed his friend past her emotional barrier.

However, the truth had to be heard. That was, after all, what the Yatagarasu was all about.

"I'm just trying to follow the path my father followed," Kay said, voice turning thick again, turning partially away from the receiver in what Edgeworth imagined as an attempt to hide her tears. "Why can't you see that?"

"The Yatagarasu is all about causing change," he shot back, one life lesson on another. "Maybe it's time the Great Thief's ideals changed too."

There was a pause, silence, the sound of two minds thinking it over.

At last, three rooms away, the sound of acceptance from the crow-girl reached Edgeworth's ears in the form of a sigh.

"Three new reasons for three new legs…I'll still talk to Ms. Von Karma, make no mistake." She sighed. "But I will consider what you have said."

There was the sound of a clacking receiver on the other end, followed by a dial tone. Edgeworth lowered the phone from his own ear, placing it onto the desk.

It was official. The Yatagarasu had spread its wings.

* * *

**Alright, here's the deal-**

**This has moved from the bottom of my priority list to the top. I am very excited about this story. And I will be updating it...**

**In 'regular' intervals, from about two weeks to a month.**

**First of all, I'm busy. Second, I have a lot of other projects (wanna check my profile?). And third, this prologue itself is twenty-seven pages long. And from experience, that seems...rather long. I'm hoping it will curb you off.**

**Alright, first order of business complete.**

**Second order of business-**

**Pairings. Yup, this story'll have them. Kind of hard to keep them out of something that is gonna be this long-very, very long. **

**So, here are my pairings and my standards on them.**

**First of all, Kay will not be paired with anyone. Absolutely not allowed. I'm sorry, but that will not happen.**

**Second of all, this story will be NaruMayo. Sorry for all those other shippers, but Phoenix/Maya I am putting my foot down on.**

**Third of all, no yuri or yaoi. I'm sorry, guys. But I can't write that. I just don't have that capacity.**

**From there, everything-and I mean everything-is fair game. Crack!ships, anything. Give me your vote. I'll decide from there. **

**I will tell you, however-I will not pair characters with your OC's.**

**Also, I'm leaning toward Klema, and Miles/Franziska. There is a high probability you will see those, although I can be persuaded to Apollo/Ema if you try, and am aware that Miles/Franziska is not exactly the most popular of ships (if Court Records is at all worthwhile).**

**However, my point is this-reviewers, tell me what pairings you want. Depending on how much support you get, I will deliver.**

**I will try and bring in supporting characters of the series-be prepared for one odd victim. Odd, odd, very odd. And highly unlikely.**

**I realize this thing was OOC and apologize. My prologues are always angsty, my chapters always slightly humorous. Bear with me.**

**Please review. I'm not above begging.**

**Yes, Franziska was suggested as a possibility for the Yatagarasu-however, in this story, she will not.**

**I have the storyline planned out, no worries.**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm sorry I didn't live to that 'month-long' expectation. I will do better, swear on my life. I can do this. I can. And I sincerely love the concept of this story now.**

**Also, I apologize about all of the character's OOCness. Franziska-well, to be fair, she's become nicer and we haven't seen her in seven years. Pearl, she's grown on her own. Maya, well, she's also grown. Sorry for the kinda poor explanations.**

**Third: in response to a review from Meloday Canta-haha, well, when I said 'three years' and 'seventeen to twenty,' I mean for those to be separate sequences-add up to six years.**

**Review, please! I'd lovelovelove it. With all. My. Heart. And. Soul**

**Un-betaed, apologies.**

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

Tapping her foot impatiently as she munched on her Snackoos, Ema was forced to admit to herself that she was slightly nervous.

Very nervous.

Almost as nervous as the feeling she got before the forensics test. But who was keeping track?

It wasn't as if she had any reason to be—she loosely remembered the 'Kay Faraday' mentioned in the signature on the card from Gatewater Land as a happy-go-lucky girl who would under any other _normal _circumstance not be the object of such extreme nerves.

"Like I'm _not_ about to dedicate myself to a life of crime…"

Quite suddenly, Ema's grip on the Snackoos faltered as a barrage of whip cracks stung every inch of her skin, bare or not. A voice she was vaguely familiar with hissed from the shadows clinging to a nearby tree—"fool!"

Prosecutor Franziska von Karma emerged from the darkness, black to bright blue in a way Ema simply could not understand. Against all laws of physics and nature, science and Snackoos. "If I'm to consider participating in illegal dealings, I'd prefer to _not_ get caught, Ms. Ema Skye. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you would not talk that loudly, in a public forum, about the dealings we are about to take part of."

"P—Prosecutor von Karma?!" Ema dropped her Snackoos for real upon hearing the words from the high-and-mighty prodigy's mouth. "You're taking part in this too?"

"Fool," she said contemptuously. Ema had to wonder again how Mr. Edgeworth dealt with her. "A von Karma does not rush into decisions. I am checking to see whether or not this suits my fancy. And the more I stay here and think it over, the more I believe it does not."

"Hey!" Dropping straight down from the tree Franziska had just walked out from under, Kay shot up and grinned. "I'm glad you could both make it!"

"Kay Faraday." Franziska grimaced, whip trailing onto the ground. "You told me to give you one chance, and here it is. So talk."

_You mean she didn't come with her decision made?_

"W—well…" She faltered slightly, trailing off. "Okay. So, as the Yatagarasu, we're obviously going to have to break in to corporations and gather information on the possible illicit dealings of any companies. You'll both have to undergo a minimal type of training—well, I guess the detective might not, with field work and all…" She winked at Ema. "Anyway, the point is that the Yatagarasu is a full-time commitment. So if you can't commit your time, energy, and career to this and pretty much this as a priority, then…it won't be easy."

Kay turned expectantly to the two of them, and Ema spoke quickly, desperate to get it out—"I've already considered it. I'll put this in front of everything, I've made that decision."

"Who said anything about easy?" The prosecutor seemed more wary, eyes narrowing and darting over Kay's face. Nevertheless, Franziska seemed to ponder it over, gripping her whip tightly and closing her eyes as she turned her face down, thinking hard.

Finally, her eyes opened again, cold blue, piercing ice. She opened her mouth and spoke harshly, like a sting from her whip.

"To be a Prosecutor…that is my first priority. It always has been, and it always will be."

"But…Ms. Von Karma." Kay turned to her, almost completely serious. Her face was grim, no sign of her trademark lopsided smile. "Listen to me. The truth is on the line. You have to take it seriously. Besides, the prosecutor's path…your father placed you onto it, and you no longer owe him anything."

Franziska clenched her whip, pulling it taut, snapping it between her gloved hands over and over. Finally, she turned, eyes flashing. Ema gritted her teeth, expecting a snarky retort.

"…Do not bring my father into this."

Ema was scared at the intense gazes swapped between the two of them. Kay was genuinely getting angry…or desperate. It was hard to figure out which. "I'm sorry, Ms. Von Karma…but my father plays a big part in my legacy as well. Again I say, you owe nothing to your father. Why continue like this?"

"Because I am content with my job as a prosecutor," she replied rapidly, the answer already present in her mind. "I _like_ my job as a prosecutor. Why would I abandon it for a job that puts me with the people I condemn? I despise the criminals. I do not join them..." She paused, as if thinking something over, before tacking on one last jibe. "…Especially the ones who are too juvenile to take their job seriously."

"Ms. Von Karma!" Kay's fists balled in as she held them up in front of her, seething. "I'll have you know that you are not the only one who wants to follow a father's legacy! Especially since _yours_ ended up in prison!"

Ema immediately felt the need to intervene as both went almost nose to nose, Franziska's whip almost blurring as it cracked again and again against the ground, Kay's fists trembling almost of their own accord. Pushing between them, she glanced fearfully—usually she started the fights, instead of stopping them.

"Alright, guys, listen to me! You have to stop! Kay, get a hold of yourself! Not everything is passed down by blood, and Manfred von Karma's criminalistics behaviors are one of them!"

"I don't care!" Kay hissed at her angrily. "No one has the right to insult my father! He worked for a noble cause! " She turned back to the blue-haired prosecutor. "C'mon! There's hardly anything honorable about working as a prosecutor for you at this point! Your dad started you on it! And I hardly need to make a pro-con list for your dad!"

"My father may have set me on my path, but Miles Edgeworth and Phoenix Wright have shown me the right way to walk it! I have found enough of the truth to work on enforcing it, and if I can do it the right way, make no mistake, I _will_ avoid darkening myself with the wrong side of the law I follow so closely!" She took a deep breath and held her whip high before bringing it down with devastating intensity in Kay's direction. Ema flew in front of it, scared of Franziska once again inciting the wrath Kay and forcing Ema into having to play peacemaker. The leather stung against her cheek, pain present but quite bearable. Ema supposed that Franziska was used to whipping people, because she showed no remorse but instead continued to speak. Then again, the detective had heard stories about 'Lady Karma and her whip'—although equally common stories had been told of how the whip was less of a weapon and more of a channel for all of the von Karma's boundless feelings. Indeed, the one lash seemed to be enough, because the prosecutor almost immediately calmed, gripping her handle loosely. She opened her mouth and spoke again, more softly, though the words came fast and terse.

"But you, Kay Faraday, still seem convinced that there is another benefit I can reap—one I cannot otherwise find."

"That is correct." The raven-haired girl calming as her foe did, she spoke once again in her half-playful, light tone.

"So tell me quickly." Another crack against the ground with her whip. "I tire of this charade. Indecision is not the way of a von Karma."

"Is anything sane the way of a von Karma?" Tapping her finger to her arm—Ema could half-swear she had learned that technique from Edgeworth—Kay muttered under her breath before smiling innocently. "You carry the legacy of the great prosecutor Manfred von Karma, your father, correct?"

"That's right," Franziska continued suspiciously, hand beginning to tense on that whip.

"Well, he is, with all due respect," she added hastily as she tipped her head toward the prosecutor, "behind bars. His is not the most honorable of stories to follow."

"I know that, Kay Faraday. Your point?"

The whole calling-people-by-their-full-names habit was starting to irk Ema; although, seeing Kay's look of resigned acceptance, she'd have to guess it happened rather often. "Well, by joining the Yatagarasu, you have yet another story backing your own—the one of my father, the legendary Prosecutor Byrne Faraday. As long as the legacy carries, the name is famed, as you well know." She inclined her head. "And I understand that von Karma's put a lot of worth in legacy."

There was a heavy pause. Even in Ema's somewhat accepting mind, the excuse sounded halfway poor; Ema shuddered to think of what Franziska von Karma thought of Kay's rather daring claim. However, the detective had also heard tales of the older, more 'aristocratic' European families and their value of bloodlines and legacies. Perhaps this was such a case…?

Ema was by no means good at perceiving—that was Apollo's forte, and to be fair, the 'hypothesis' part of a scientific experiment had never been her favorite. However, challenging herself to hazard a vague guess, Ema took in the way the girl's eyes closed as she squeezed the edges of her sleeves. As seconds slipped by, it dawned on her that Franziska was actually seriously considering the offer—and what was more, it was some sort of close race.

However, the next words out of the girl's mouth made Ema wonder if she had been mistaken—the only conclusions to draw were that she was indeed wrong, or that Franziska was very good at hiding her feelings. Ema guessed the latter, and Kay seemed to as well, because she looked almost completely unperturbed by the harsh words spouting from her 'friend's' mouth.

"…That is all?"

"Well, yes." Kay shrugged. "You're here, which means you're considering it."

"Hmph." Franziska crossed her arms firmly, frowning defensively. "A foolish spout of sentimentality, I assure you."

"But you're here nevertheless." She spread her arms, waving for Franziska to continue her abandoned train of thought. "So? What do you think?"

The girl replied slowly, pausing often to give Kay time to interject—and unknowingly increasing Ema's nerves and annoyance with each second passed in silence. "You wish me here to carry on the legacy of your father, a great prosecutor—is that correct?"

"Yes…"

"Then your logic is flawed." Stating it simply, Ema was once again reminded of Mr. Edgeworth. "While it is true that I admire him as a prosecutor—well, that is just it. I admire him as a _prosecutor._ I know nothing of him as a person and cannot particularly say I care for him as a thief. If I wished to carry on his legacy, being a perfect prosecutor would be legacy enough. Besides, there are other people I admire. And status nowadays does not mean so much to me as the truth."

"But, Ms. Von Karma," Kay interrupted, pouncing onto her statement as she rubbed a finger under her nose. "The law has limitations. You say the truth matters to you now? The truth is so much easier to get if you team up with me."

"Whoever said anything about easy?" The reply came offhand, like a backlash with the whip—involuntary, easy, like it required no thought. Ema wondered briefly what it felt like to have an argument destroyed like that. "It does not matter how accessible the truth is—to get it the right way is a thousand times better than any cut corners. The truth I have at my fingertips is enough for me at the moment." As if to emphasize her point, she stretched out her hand toward Kay.

"But someday, that will not be enough," Kay retorted. Ema sighed; everything always went back to the truth she at this point did not recognize. "The truth you have accessible with the law will not be enough. And during that time, you will wish you had joined me."

"I shall cross that barrier when I get there," she replied smoothly, quirking an eyebrow at Kay. "I live for the moments and change when I need to."

"Aren't you afraid that you will end up following the path of Manfred von Karma?" Kay switched rapidly, one topic to another. Ema caught her fiddling with the edges of her gloves and automatically knew—was Apollo rubbing off on her?—that Kay was grasping at straws.

Franziska was nowhere near as fazed. She lifted her head to look Kay straight in the eye as she spoke. "I am no longer a von Karma in anything but name and perfection."

"Again with the perfection?" Kay gave a small, wry, smile—the type one would wear when hearing once again a mildly amusing but overused joke. "Haven't you learned anything from Mr. Edgeworth? Perfection is unattainable."

"I have learned _everything_ from my little brother," she retorted, raising an eyebrow. "I know perfection is unattainable. I strive for it because you can _never_ reach anything of worth until you try."

Her eyes, cold and stern, flashed against Kay's, icy steel against gray iron. The pressure seemed to increase between them, Ema almost afraid to break it, definitely afraid that one would abruptly notice her. Finally, Franziska made a single move—she turned away abruptly. Her back told a story, rejection.

There was a pause while Kay seemed to register that she had given up—she opened her mouth, looking incredulous. There was no opportunity, however, for the thief to speak to the prosecutor—Franziska took one step, then another, striding away from the two. Suddenly finding her voice, Ema stepped forward, holding out a hand: "WAIT!"

Franziska flew around on her heel, lashing the whip into Ema's face. She groaned, reaching up, patting her head lightly to make sure her rose-tinted Luminol glasses were still intact. Still slightly shocked by the crack across her face, her mouth opened and closed wordlessly—however, Kay finished her thought with a harsh cry that split the night in half.

"Where are you going?!"

"Home," the prosecutor replied, flicking her whip impatiently across the ground.

"You can't!" Horror and shock blended on her face, Kay looked genuinely surprised. It occurred to Ema then that Kay, who had grown up without parents to teach her right and wrong, with only the journal of a father who found his job as a thief very self-righteous to guide her, would not understand why anyone _wouldn't_ want to be the Yatagarasu.

Franziska's eyes softened, whip lying dormant. Her tone, however, stayed commanding and authoritative. "I will help you, Kay Faraday, in any way I can. However, I know my own limitations and I _know_ I cannot do this."

"You're the strongest person I know, Ms. Von Karma," Kay replied eagerly. "If you can't do it, no one can."

_Great, what does that make __**me?! **_

"Strongest…perhaps." Franziska bit her lip. "But it takes a different type of person—a lighter, freer person to become the Yatagarasu. People like you, Kay Faraday. Or Ema Skye."

"But that's only two!" Kay cast a nod to Ema, and she almost sighed with relief—for a second, she had worried she had been forgotten. "The whole reason the name of the Yatagarasu exists is because we are three—"

"What's in a name?" Interjecting idly, she frowned. "A name has no meaning on its own—the people and personalities behind the name are the things that make it matter."

"Please," Kay insisted. "I _know_ we need three. Ema and I can't do this on our own."

"Ema Skye and Kay Faraday." Franziska murmured, as if to herself, looking past them to a premonition only she could see. "You will go far."

"Like I said, that's not enough—"

"I'm not finished," she answered once again, eyes slipping back to the forefront, holding her hand out in a 'stop' motion. "Ema Skye, Kay Faraday…and Maya Fey."

"Huh?" Kay's mouth didn't drop open—however, it clenched instinctively. "How did you know…?"

"_She volunteered?!_" Ema pouted, both finishing Kay's statement and expressing her own indignation—Maya Fey had been one of her friends. "How come I'm the only person who _doesn't_ know?!"

"My little brother is not one to keep secrets," Franziska answered. Nodding respectfully to both girls, she coiled her whip in her hands, lifted her head…and smiled. It was such an rare expression, Ema didn't quite know what to make of it.

"Yes…the three of you." She turned, began to walk away. She was a shade in the night, the faintest silhouette in the shadows when she turned halfway. The side of her face was barely apparent, a side of who Franziska von Karma could have been in a different world. Her voice was faint with distance, fluctuating with the wind.

"Ema Skye, Kay Faraday, and Maya Fey…the second Yatagarasu."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

Watching Franziska von Karma walk away from her was like losing a fundamental part of herself.

She was dimly aware of Ema Skye behind her, watching the prosecutor intently. The park seemed to fade from her, smaller and smaller, until it seemed as if Kay watching the scene from the viewpoint of a bird—too far to see clearly, too ignorant of the English language to understand, too free to care.

Her conscience returned, and she heard Ema cry out in shock as she buckled into kneeling position. The numbness spread through her, contaminating her veins.

_She's gone. She's really gone._

How had this happened? She had come fully expecting two new friends and a completed Yatagarasu. Now here she was, down in defeat on the ground. Barely there. Even the presence of Ema Skye, reassuring amidst the shock in ways Kay could not describe, was not enough to dampen the blow.

Edgeworth had been right. Kay would never have been able to exercise authority over Franziska von Karma—and Kay was quite sure that Franziska realized the fact too and perhaps used it as at least partial incentive to avoid joining the Yatagarasu.

"It'll be okay," the forensic-obsessed detective murmured as she crouched next to her.

But Kay was, at the moment, not interested in that fact that it would be okay. She was caught up in the fact that it _had_ _not_ been okay.

Franziska had always known. She had come to the meeting knowing full well she would refuse.

Franziska had been a disaster.

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

"Franziska was a fluke."

"Excuse me?"

"Franziska was a fluke," Kay muttered once again, pacing back and forth around her father's office. Ema crossed her legs carefully as she sat tentatively on the spinning chair behind the prosecutor's desk—she had not quite outgrown them. "I shouldn't have been so stupid. We don't need a prosecutor."

Nodding as Kay wrapped up with a flourish of the hand, Ema opened her mouth to agree and recommend Maya—however, Kay's words, rapid with frantic feelings, beat her to it.

"No, not a prosecutor; we need a defense attorney."

"Yea—_what?!_"

Kay turned to Ema questioningly. The detective felt her jaw slacken enough to take in an entire bag of Snackoos. She tried to think of a defense attorney that Kay would accept—however, all that came to mind was female Apollo, and seconds of _that_ on her mind made her want to use the flowerpot on the window sill was a barf bag. Ema somehow thought Kay would not be happy with that, so she instead settled on an incredulous expression.

"What's wrong with that?" Turning back to the shelf of old case files, Kay crossed her arms, tapping a finger on her elbow and looking down her nose. "The idea makes sense."

"You've been spending too much time with Mr. Edgeworth," Ema muttered, causing Kay to immediately uncross her arms, adapt her normal expression, and burst into a fit of laughter.

"Okay, okay," Kay chortled, coming down from her high and sitting in the hardback client seat across from Ema. "But seriously, the whole reason my dad was part of the Yatagarasu was…well, mostly because of Little Thief. Since I already have him," and here Kay flicked at the front pocket on her pack that held said contraption. "I'm guessing _I'm_ taking on my father's role."

Ema nodded cautiously, not quite agreeing with Kay's idea but showing her understanding of the situation. Kay had told her about the device the night before, after Franziska had left, and Ema had expressed both amazement at its skill and indignation that tools like that were not part of the police force.

"Anyway…well, because of that, the role of prosecutor's gone, and all that's left is the detective and the defense attorney. And since you're a detective, that leaves…"

"The defense attorney," Ema breathed, finishing of the sentence before raising her voice. "I get where you're coming from, Kay, but—I mean, do _you_ know any defense attorneys?"

"Well…no." Kay frowned, fiddling with her pockets. Ema could practically see her sitting in the interrogation room. Or, for that matter, on the witness stand with a finger in her face courtesy of either Mr. Wright or Apollo. "I was kinda hoping _you_ did, actually. In the cases you acted as a witness in, I mean." Now looking skeptical, she raised an eyebrow. "You do know some, don't you?"

"Yes, one," sighed Ema. Come to think of it, her job really _was_ pretty sad if the only defense attorney she knew from all her times on the stand was Apollo. Then again, the clients chose the defense attorney.

"Huh. Is this person our age?" Leaning forward, Kay propped her arms onto the desk.

"…Against my better judgment, yes." Ema briefly considered lying before remembering that she was sitting across from the thief who 'stole the truth.' Ripping open yet another bag of Snackoos, she flipped a single chocolate into the air before catching it onto her tongue—a neat trick she had spent a while perfecting. "However, he doesn't have the guts to join the Yatagarasu."

"Oh, it's a he." Kay sounded rather let down; she had once before expressed to Ema her feelings on gender among the new Yatagarasu. "I guess he can't join…although I kind of thought it would work. Besides, guts can come with time."

"You'd be surprised," Ema muttered, mimicking in her head all the times she'd heard the neverending mantra—'I'm fine!'

"What?" Kay glanced at her, then shrugged dismissively. "Whatever. So, do you have any other ideas?"

"How's this?" Eyebrow by now twitching slightly, Ema pressed her fingers to her temple. "For one thing, stop trying to plagiarize your dad. The shoot people in Texas for that, pal!"

"Ema…I hate to break this to you…" Kay's face flickered between amusement and bemusement. "But…you sound like Gummy."

Ema blinked twice, then moaned in fake exaggeration. "Gosh. See, _this_ is why I'm joining the Yatagarasu. I'm quoting two psychotic detectives…my sister's new husband and a bankrupt lackey." Shaking her head slightly and grinning, unable to conceal her amusement, Ema placed her head in her hands.

Kay grinned, shaking off the insult to her friend as a joke. That was one thing Ema liked about Kay; she understood when and when not to take things too seriously. "If you buy a potted cactus named Billy, I'll make sure to take you to a mental hospital."

The two shared a laugh before Ema came down to Earth, followed closely by Kay. "Okay, I get that you don't think it's possible we can copy the original Yatagarasu exactly." She frowned. "But, if that's the case…what do you think?"

"We've got Little Thief, and me." Ema nodded. "I can probably get myself onto the Yatagarasu's case if I tried. The prosecutor that I work under, well…" She spoke slowly, as if betraying her own beliefs—which was probably true, because Ema really did _not_ enjoy complimenting the glimmerous fop. "…he's understanding. To some point."

"Understanding, huh?" Giggling, Kay wiggled an eyebrow—Ema groaned, swiping another fistful of snacks. Practically inhaling it, she crunched on the chocolate as she took one final Snackoo, raised an eyebrow, and took aim.

KA-TONK!

"Point taken," the girl across from her muttered, rubbing her forehead. "Continue, please, without the Snackoos."

"Well…I just think that that's close enough to the original for us to be pretty safe on the defensive. All we need now is an offensive—because 'knowing the location of the object' is more to the stealing than to the not-getting-caught, which I think we already have covered."

"Hm." Stealing a Snackoo from Ema's bag, Kay munched thoughtfully. "I see where you're coming from, but I still don't get why you think it's such an actively _bad_ idea. I mean, a defense attorney _would_ help a lot. As for the plagiarizing thing—well, come on, we're the _Great Thief._ I don't think anyone's going to be suing us any time soon."

Kay laughed, still looking a little shifty. Was she feeling nervous? Not for the first time, Ema wished she had the perceive ability of Apollo and Trucy.

"Oh, I don't know." Ema laughed off the feeling. "I mean, I'm pretty sure some of your 'victims' would if they could figure out who you were."

"I told you yesterday, this office is secure," piped up Kay, mistaking Ema's sarcasm for real fear.

"Yeah. But why _do_ you want to follow the first Yatagarasu so closely anyway?"

Leaning forward, Kay looked her in the eye. For once, Ema felt like the younger person in the room.

"Because I'm failing, Ema. My own methods are failing—they're the whole reason why I've sought you guys out in the first place. At this point, I've sunk so low that I need to succeed again _immediately_ or the Yatagarasu will fail. And I have only _one_ example to follow."

"The father," the two said simultaneously. Kay flung her elbows off the table, letting them rest as crossed arms across her chest as she smirked triumphantly.

Ema did not, however, feel any of the defeat she should have been feeling at her admittance. Instead, an odd feeling of crossroads, facing a hard decision fell over her. The right word?

Torn. Ema was torn. On one hand, she didn't think she'd be able to stand it if she became part of the group that rejected the combined will of Mr. Edgeworth, Mr. Wright, and Maya. On the other hand, how could she ask her newest friend to risk everything—everything she thought she'd been left by her father—just for _her_ sake?

Kay tilted her head, uncrossing her arms, eyes darkening into an odd combination of navy and gray slate. Smile sliding off her lips, she looked at Ema as if she were a mildly interesting object, a partially valuable piece of truth she _might_ like to steal.

There were certain eyes Ema had seen in her lifetime, ones that made her wonder if their gaze could slice her into pieces until they reached the secrets inside. Phoenix Wright's piercing eyes had conquered both her and her sister. Miles Edgeworth's eyes were sharper, harsher, and just as—if not more—effective. In one of her friend's rare moods, Ema had seen Maya's irises pulse and wondered if she looked that way as she channeled the spirits of her ancestors. Franziska von Karma's ice chips—masquerading as eyes— were a perfect ten out of ten, as effective as her whip.

As Kay propped her elbows back onto the table, resting her hand onto the heels of her palm, Ema was reminded faintly of that far away feeling—the feeling of observation. Of being a perfectly executed analysis. She briefly wondered if she ever looked like that to other people.

Whatever Kay found behind Ema's white-cloaked figure, it seemed to answer an unspoken question that Kay alone could put her finger on. Again, she leaned back, contemplative expression still evident. Ema was not surprised. Questions always lead to more of the same.

"Ema…"

"Yes?" Tilting her head, she tossed another Snackoo into her mouth, handing one off to Kay. She accepted it gingerly.

"Ema…I'll think about it."

The detective looked at the uncertain girl in front of her for a second, thinking of nothing and everything, before again switching her line of vision to a silver picture frame on the desk she was sitting at. It was the late prosecutor Byrne Faraday, hands open, arms wide, standing alone. Her mind cast from the picture to other people and landed, for some odd reason, on Lana.

"Hey," she said finally, voice cracking as she held out her hand. Thumb in front, fingers curved, half of a clasp. "We'll make it through, right? Together."

"…Right." Kay placed her hand into Ema's, completing the circle. Her glove felt smooth on Ema's skin as her fingers wrapped instinctively tighter. They were a team now, one united entity. Her eyes, still piercing, stared straight into hers. Ema tried to meet the gaze with the same ferocity, and quite suddenly, she realized she _could._

"And we'll find the truth, if we die trying!"

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"M-M-M-Mister Nick!"

If Maya had been happy to see Phoenix, Pearl was absolutely ecstatic—in front of half of Kurain Village, her new 'subjects' under the medium village hierarchy, she flung her arms around the waist of the gray-clad piano player and began to cry. The waiting mediums stood awkwardly before proceeding without Pearl to the group meditations session, leaving the three behind.

"Ouch—Pearls, good to see you too—"

Pearl pulled back, almost immediately, and automatically punched him as hard as she could. Nick pulled back with a fresh nose bleed. The last time that had happened had been seven years ago, in the Detention Center, in front of her half-cousin.

"Mr. Nick! How could you avoid us for so long?! You can't do that to your special someone!"

"You're still on that subject, Pearls?" Nick gave a half-smile that faded as soon as he caught a completely serious expression on her face. Maya, reading the shocked look on Nick's face with experience only time brought, sighed as he indeed leaned back toward her and whispered the words on the tip of her tongue—"When did Pearl grow up so quickly?"

Before Maya could reply, Pearl caught the words and spoke up, arms folded angrily and frown on her face. Her angry expression had long ago stopped portraying juvenile annoyance and began to morph into something much more serious, a cross between Mia's stoic glare, Dahlia's uncontrollable rage, and Iris's quiet but effective gaze. It was so severe at times that Maya would not wish it on anyone, let alone Nick.

"I grew up," she said simply, "when you left."

* * *

"So, Mr. Nick." Clasping her cup tightly between her hands, Pearl raised it slowly to her lips. From across the Kurain table, long and worn oak, Nick couldn't see—Maya, however, could spy Pearl's clenched lips and saw quite apparently that she was not in the mood for drinking herbal tea.

Pearl had often claimed that the specialized brew reminded her of the mother she used to know. If she was too agitated to even try the calming potion, Maya knew she was faring badly.

A spasm of guilt shot through her—_but this is Nick's fault, not mine._

She glanced over at Phoenix, who could not see the scene, nor would understand it if he could. For all Maya knew, he still didn't know that Pearl had finally realized Morgan deserved her actions. He was still carrying that mysterious smile, face turned away so Maya couldn't see his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Maya murmured anyway, leaning toward Pearl as Nick occupied himself by drinking more tea and reaching toward a bowl of Snackoos. Pearl scowled at her, though she followed it with a small smile.

"Why are you apologizing for Mr. Nick?"

Maya glanced once again toward him. He was looking at their conversation skeptically, half curious and more than a little bit hurt that he had been left out. Maya had to stop herself from thinking—_I'm sorry if you're feeling left out, Nick. But you don't have that right any more._

Phoenix had been out of their life for seven years. He'd had no idea how much they'd suffered while he was gone. How much they'd suffered for him.

"Isn't that all we've done lately?" Maya smiled, sad and slow, no longer bothering to hide her tone. Nick's expression showed quite clearly he had heard them since the beginning—blank. His face was a slate wiped clean.

"For the last seven years," Pearl answered affirmatively, nodding sharply. Her face twisted, contorting sharply. "And he never even talked to me once."

* * *

"What's wrong with Pearls?"

Meandering down Winding Way, Maya wrapped her hands into the ribbon on her waist, twining it across her fingers and touching the talismans folded inside. _Jade for my ancestors, a pearl for a loved one, three strings of gold for three people dear to me that I have lost. Two scraps of red silk for luck, and my magatama for my legacy of Kurain. A piece of amber for good fortune, a pouch of dust from Ami's urn, and—Pearl's Master Talisman?_

Right. Maya remembered, suddenly, Mystic Myrtle placing the red-and-gold charm into her hand. Small enough to lose in Nick's briefcase, big enough to hold a person's entire world. _The master always bequeaths it to the next master,_ she had said. _Morgan herself presented it to her sister. She passed the talisman accordingly, First Blood to the Second. Now the favor is to be returned—Second Blood to First—and the burden falls to you._

Weeks later, and Maya was still clinging onto the last relic of her mother that was still in her possession—the staff was in Pearl's hands, as was the position of master; everything else had went to the vault in Kurain's treasure trove. The only thing that had changed about the old charm was the picture inside—the one of her and Mia now sat in a picture frame atop her desk, an ever-present reminder of what could have happened. Pearl had now placed her own memories into the container—a picture of her own—but had continued to let Maya cart it around.

"You're more responsible, you'd keep it safer," she had said—but they both knew why Maya was the one still holding onto it. Because the Mastership should have been hers, and the talisman too.

Pearl had not told her what the picture inside held, and Maya had not asked or bothered peeking. She was tired of secrets, of holding someone else's life in her hands. It was easier to simply think of it as a piece of paper and not a picture.

"I think she's just overwhelmed," she murmured to Nick, looking away. Bonsai trees dotted the garden, the remnants of a dwarfish forest. "A lot has happened to her these past few days."

"I'll say," Nick muttered, pulling his beanie further over his eyes with a lucrative smile. "Becoming a master…no small feat. Pearl really _has_ grown up…"

He paused abruptly, remembering her cruel words. Maya looked down. Nick was too much of a good guy _not_ to take the blame.

"…Did Pearls _really_ grow up just because of me?"

Phoenix's face wasn't exactly apologetic; however, it was dark, without its usual secretive smile. Maya found it hard to lie to that face. She _couldn't_ lie to that face. She couldn't lie to Nick, point blank. And not just because he owned a magatama.

"…I'm not gonna lie to you, Nick. I won't say it was you completely, but you were a big part of it." As Nick bowed his head, a sly grin spread onto her face, and she patted the beanie like a cat. He pulled away, laughing. "But hey, I never handed off the phone to her all the times you called. I guess it's also considered my fault too, right?"

"I think it was easier just blaming your Aunt Morgan," he muttered, turning around and stopping abruptly. For a second, his expression flickered like a candle. Finally, his face stabilized as he straightened, shrugging with curiously angled eyebrows and a small smirk. "…Huh."

"What, is that your new catchphrase?" Nudging him playfully, but still not turning around, Maya stifled a half-sigh—he really was becoming more and more like Godot. Pushing him again, she giggled. "Are you okay?"

Nick, however, did not react, instead smiling down the thin, tracing cobblestone knife-edge that was Winding Way.

"Pearls, so glad you could join us."

Maya turned abruptly, the loose ribbons of her garb flying and accidentally striking Nick across his midsection. She ignored the almost completely silent wince from her friend, however, instead choosing to focus her eyes onto the end of the road. Purple acolyte training attire abandoned for the richer, full crimson and slate of the Master, the hooded cloak that Maya had often seen on her mother trailed behind the short figure of her cousin as Pearl smiled, staff in hand.

"Of course, Mr. Nick. I'm the Master now, right?" The pretzel-headed girl flicked up the edge of her robe, fingering the shimmering opal magatama brooch. "I've got to show you around. Who knows the village better than me and Mystic Maya?"

Pearl strode forward quickly and, before Phoenix could protest, slipped her hand into his. Acting on impulse and deciding she might as well do things correctly, Maya grasped his other palm, completing the chain of three. Together, they walked down Winding Way, Pearl pointing with a free hand and Nick sandwiched neatly between the two mediums. Maya clenched the warm fist tighter into hers. With Nick as her anchor, she felt like she could fly.

* * *

"You could come back, you know."

Maya turned away from the midnight outside the small circular window, whirling around to face the pacing Pearl. The newly-instigated Master's left hand rested on the curved part of the staff, stroking the amethyst sphere agitatedly and occasionally lifting to gesture wildly, while her right hand lifted to her mouth. She had never outgrown the habit of biting her nail—she did so now, chewing obsessively on her thumb with a kind of viciousness, as if picturing her finger to be someone who had wronged her. Maya, despite being slow to cross her cousin when she was in one of her moods, held out her hand wryly and gave a wary smile.

"I can't come back now, Pearl. I've already left the village."

"No," her cousin insisted. It was that drive—that determination to see Maya return, prove her friends innocent, or fight for her favorite 'couple'—that made Maya think of Pearl as a stronger force than her. She began to spoke more and more quickly, rambling wildly. "I know it's too late to return you to the position of Master, but you could be my First Counsel, help me rule Kurain. If Mr. Nick refuses to hire you, there shouldn't be reason for you to stay in the city."

"Pearl," Maya intoned softly. Something in her voice must have touched the angry, ranting Pearl, because she stopped, the upper part of her thumb still in her mouth. She looked like a child, someone who Maya could protect.

At the same time, her expression was fierce. Like someone Maya was ready to let go.

She gripped her cousin's shoulders, trying to memorize her face before pulling her into a tight hug. Her eyes tried to squeeze out tears she couldn't seem to draw out from the well inside the pit of her stomach.

"It's not a question of whether or not I have a reason to stay in the city anymore," Maya whispered straight into Pearl's ear, blowing stray strands of hair out of the way of any unclarity. "It's a question of whether or not I have a reason to come back to the village."

"Don't I count for anything, Mystic Maya?" She didn't push Maya away—the two were too close, after seven years of relying constantly on each other—but her tone was as effective as one of her infamous slaps. "Can't you stay here for me?"

"…Pearl, you know as well as I do that I'm going for both of us…and Nick."

There was a pause, the sound of two hearts trading information behind the language of family.

"Take me with you, then," Pearl said sadly, already aware of the answer.

"No. Kurain needs a Master."

Pulling away finally, Pearl turned around, taking Maya's place of silent vigil at the solitary window. Outside and diagonal left, if you craned your neck and squinted just right, was Nick's room.

"Have you opened the talisman yet?"

"No."

"Mystic Maya." Pearl's smile was small, a finger over her lips as she turned toward her. "You might want to try breaking tradition once in a while."

"I don't have to," Maya replied weakly. "I think I already know what's inside."

Nevertheless, at the unspoken command of the master, she cracked the charm open. It blossomed like a glossy, vintage rose, the sheaf of papers inside bursting out of the container that had been stuffed past capacity. The photographs were red-backed, giving the illusion that they were part of the talisman as opposed to separate memories.

Maya raised an eyebrow. "This many?"

"There are a lot of things I never want to forget."

Maya picked the papers out, glancing at each, the memories coming thick and fast, each piercing her like gunshots. The photograph Lotta Hart and taken at the end of Nick's fourth case. A birds-eye courtroom lobby surveillance camera shot of Phoenix, Maya, and Pearl after Maya's kidnapping. A grainy photocopy of Larry's sketch after Iris's trial. A souvenir snapshot of the three of them in front of a metallic tower weeks before Nick had been disbarred.

Maya sank slowly onto Pearl's folded bamboo mat, scattering the pictures with a sweep of her hand. She contemplated briefly filling the red container with her own saltine tears—however, as the charm dropped to the ground, a rattling filled the air as one last object fell into Maya's lap.

Picking it up gingerly, Maya bit her lip and stifled a cry. It was a cardboard cut-out badge, superglued clumsily on a blue suit twice over, the navy threads from the first time it had been ripped off trapped between the glue of the second.

Furio Tigre's fake badge, which Phoenix had lent Pearl for her Halloween costume as an 'Ace Attorney'—permanently, the last Halloween before his disbarment.

She managed a wobbly grin, looking up to her cousin as she bounced on her heels, waiting expectantly for an answer. She flipped it over again, crudely drawn mockery of liberty's scale.

"Why is this in here?"

Swooping in neatly, Pearl clenched the container in her fist, her fingers sliding over the slippery surfaces and shuffling them back into the gold-rimmed lock with a sweep of the hand. She tucked the talisman back into Maya's pocket, leaving the badge in her palm. They both stared at it before Pearl slowly reached out a hand and stroked it.

"I figured," she said slowly. "I figured it'd be the closest thing I'd ever see again—to the real thing."

Pearl gently pried Maya's fingers off, one by one, before loosening another section of the ribbon across her chest in preparation of placing the badge into yet another crevice in Maya's kimono. While her cousin continued to work with quick fingers, Maya swallowed the selfish wall blocking her words and spoke.

"You should keep the talisman. It's yours now."

"No," Pearl said yet again. Maya felt like she had heard a lifetime of negative. "You keep it."

Maya looked up to protest again, but quieted when her eyes met Pearl's. The Master went back to folding the badge into the acolyte's robe, two creases and a gentle tuck. Laying over the final stretch of silk that hid the badge from view, her cousin patted the faint round outline.

"A lot of us are counting on you, Mystic Maya." Her eyes drilled into Maya's, searing out her lingering traces of hesitation.

"We've been waiting for seven years. Save Mr. Nick, for our sakes—because if you save him, you save us all."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

The sound seemed to shatter her bones—although the opposite was in fact the truth. The pattern—_click, click, click, whiiiiiiiir_—was sounding because of the impact her fingers made as they channeled the force of her excitement into the keyboard. While the database on her father's computer _had_ been updated after his death, the system of data storage itself had not. As such, Kay could not directly search the name of Maya Fey—or anyone for that matter; instead, she entered her information by case and trial. Profiles were only accessible through the cases the people were involved in. There was no room for personal data—just case data. It was difficult to sort through, made no sense to her, and the face-oriented Kay was having too much trouble. Nevertheless, Edgeworth had the information. Case data. Kay could handle it.

At least, the limited data Kay even _knew_ about her candidate.

"Defense Attorney: Phoenix Wright…" She breathed into the dust of the room, stealing glances at her fingers as she typed. The old keyboard made the worst of sounds, threatening malfunction at every turn—_click, click, click, whiiiiiiiir_—however, the words duly appeared on the screen. She laid down her fingers, rapping them impatiently.

"Related Case—which to choose? Any case with Mr. Wright is almost guaranteed to carry the name of Maya…"

She tapped a finger to her lip, deciding finally on the one that stood out most in her mind.

"Prosecutor: Miles Edgeworth…Case by Organization Number: PW-7, that's ironic. Accused Crime, Murder—Victim Party, Mia Fey. Verdict, Not Guilty"

Jabbing enter furiously, she did a little twirl in the chair, catching a glimpse outside the window behind her before sticking out her feet abruptly. They hit the desk with hard force, stopping her quickly and sending a screen of links straight into her line of vision. The uppermost option contained just she wanted, a test of character—the full transcript of the PW-7 trial. With bit of fidgeting and a muttered curse at the dying mouse, Kay clicked on the link.

The page turned momentarily blank before text scrolled in line by line, as if the words were being recorded as she looked on, trial by fire right in front of her eyes. She blinked, holding down the southward arrow as the page continued to load, so when it finally finished she'd be at the bottom. When the transcript finally ended, she did a control-find on Maya Fey's name, hoping to find a link to the profile…

And then something caught her attention—Maya Fey had a speaking role.

The first time her mother had taken her to a trial—a _trial_ and not just an empty courtroom—the bundle of nerves in her throat and the overwhelming urge to please her father had risen up into an objection in her throat. She had forgotten exactly what she'd said, but never what had happened afterwards—her father had grabbed her shoulders in front of all the people of the court and pulled, knocking her against the partition between assistant's bench and prosecutors seat.

"Kay," he had whispered harshly, covering her mouth with one hand and lightly rattling her shoulders with the other. "You are not actually my assistant. Unless you are a legal aide when you actually get a job—you—never—ever—say—_anything_ the audience will catch, you hear?"

She had nodded fearfully, slumping into her chair as the audience also seemed to relax from the sudden loss of tension. Her father had taken a breath, shook the scarf at his neck, and continued.

Blinking herself back into reality, Kay thumped her head lightly with her fist and glanced at the court record, still frowning and feeling quizzical. Years after that trial, Kay had read court regulations and found the passage stating the rules—'anything said by people who are not lawyers, judges, witnesses, legal aides, or the audience as a whole are to be stricken from the court record'—with clauses for important interjections such as last-minute evidence, of course. Nevertheless, Maya Fey's words were still recorded in the archives.

It was _still_ decidedly odd…

Frowning, Kay clicked through the instances Maya had spoken without really reading what she had said.

_Why does she only appear to speak on the last day of the trial…?_

There was only one explanation—Maya Fey was legal aide on the third day of her own trial.

"It's not possible," she muttered on instinct. "Clause three of the courtroom pamphlet states that a defendant on trial cannot play any other role in the same trial."

Scrolling up wildly, she yelped at the Judge's words. Blinking, she focused on the sentence, reading quickly, unsure whether to drop her jaw or frown.

"The trial of…Phoenix Wright?"

Kay knew that most people with a career in law who had been accused would carry the weight on their reputation for the rest of their career. Manfred von Karma had _murdered_ over one accusation of false evidence. Edgeworth himself had had his own scar reopened during his little escapade in IFly Airlines. For a lawyer to be charged with murder and escape unscathed, without blame whatsoever…

"He'd have to be a virtual god of the courtroom," she said to herself, deciding to finally loosen her mouth.

"…So how the hell did they let Phoenix Wright get away?"

* * *

Kay was not particularly known for her patience.

In fact, according to certain magenta-clad prosecutors and their sisters, she was known for the exact _opposite_—her hyper attitude, bubbly spirit, and her inability to sit still.

"How did they _not_ fire this guy earlier?!" Gesturing toward the screen, she pounded the desk with her fist. "I don't even—"

Slumping forward dejectedly, Kay sighed.

"I cannot—stand—this much—pointless—conjecture—in one—sitting—"

While the trial was certainly interesting, the fact that Kay knew the eventual ending was beginning to make the transcript boring with each line spoken. Kay had only gotten to the halfway point of the trial, day two, in an hour—and, more importantly, the notebook paper with information on Maya Fey was disappointing empty.

"That is—I just—"

To save herself before she died of cardiac arrest, Kay clicked forward harshly to about three-quarters of the way into Phoenix's trial, dancing her wit's end and in need of a quote directly from Maya Fey within ten seconds. And that was when she got her next big shock of the day.

"SHE CHANELLED MIA FEY?!"

Quickly clicking the hyperlink on the dead attorney's name, she scrolled through her information rapidly, getting to the charts of statistics and timeline of achievements at the end.

Her win record crushed the realm of logic, and her timeline stretched far beyond her death…

…through Maya and Pearl Fey.

Her breathing slowed as Kay tapped her bottom lip, clicking to Maya's profile on an open tab.

_A legal assistant…well, I guess Maya's vast experience gets her to be __**almost**__ the rank of a defense attorney…they surely wouldn't find it weird if…_

She read through the profile, focusing on the fact that she had attempted to get a job at the Wright Anything Agency. Kay, of course, knew it was for a position as a spirit medium—however, the record had been kept completely private from the public eye. If no one else knew…

Kay clicked between Mia's and Maya's tabs, noting their mug shots and the similarities between them.

And there was her miracle.

Kay was fully prepared to spend the day reveling in the idea forming in her mind when the phone rang.

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"Hello?"

"Um…hi…"

Maya wasn't quite sure what to say—in fact, she wasn't quite sure whether she should have been calling in the first place. Glancing quizzically into her free palm and the card glued to it with an adhesive layer of sweat, she mouthed the phone number to herself just to stabilize her own nerves. Clenching her cell phone in her fingers and twining the strap across her pinky, she took a breath.

"Is this the…um…what is this, exactly?" Blinking at the words on the card, her eyebrows shuffled over her face. "Yatagarasu…Headquarters? What kind of a name is that?"

"Hey!" An affronted voice laughed with Maya from the other end. "I'll have you know that we need to sound very professional if we want people to take us seriously! I just changed the name last week!"

"Really?" Still amused, Maya felt herself relax in the presence of the girl on the other end, who she assumed was Kay Faraday. "Well, I hardly think we need to act all formal. We're thieves, after all! The only people who will see this are us, our friends…and our victims."

"Point taken," the girl—Maya was pretty sure at this point it was this 'Kay' on the card—chuckled. "So, you're Maya, right?"

"Guilty as charged," she replied lightly.

"You know, I'm surprised," Kay returned. "I'm scrolling through your court profile here…you seem to have been 'charged'…quite a lot."

"Comes with the profession—both of them, actually." She shrugged, knowing full well Kay couldn't see her. "Legal Aide to Phoenix Wright? Sure. But surprisingly, it's the Master-of-Kurain thing that seems to have gotten me in the most trouble." She chuckled. "Ironic, isn't it? Might be why I quit."

"…And gave the burden to your cousin?"

There was a pause, Maya haughtily keeping her mouth shut. Finally, Kay spoke, as if trying to redeem herself.

"Look, Maya, I think this could work—really well, if you agree to my plan. All I need to make sure is that the person on the other end of this line, who I've never met and know next to nothing about apart from legal records, is a human being. Can you promise that?"

"…Promise."

"Good." Something in Maya's voice must have satisfied Kay. "If that's the case, I'll see you in…oh? Two days, in People Park. Plenty of time to move all your stuff over to the city."

Maya made a noise in the back of her throat, something like assent, and was about to take the phone from her ear when Kay called out to her—"oh, one more thing."

"Yeah?"

"If you could do me a favor and channel your sister before you hung up…I'd appreciate it."


	3. Chapter 3

**HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME, I'M TURNING FOURTEEN! It's 11/11. It's my birthday! Here's the update! I was in a hurry to get it in, so it's slightly shorter...BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME ANYWAY?**

**Review? IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!**

**I'm hyper. In case you didn't notice. /grin**

**Ohyeah, here's the dealio-for every other chapter, there will be a section from a point of view of a different person. So for even chapters, it'll be two sections per member of the Yatagarasu. For odd chapters, it'll be two sections per member of the Yatagarasu and one section from another person's point of view. This chapter, it's...you'll see.**

**Oh, and sorry for bringing Godot in. Won't play that big of a role, promise. And as for the Kurain Channeling thing, I apologize if it's OOC. Sorry...a million times sorry.**

**AND I'm sorry for the BYRNE. Had to do it. YOU'LL ALL HATE ME NOW FOR MAKING IT UNREALISTIC. Sorrysorrysorrysorry.../sobs**

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

_No one remembers the spirit world._

Spinning in the ultraviolet midnight vortex as her body switched from one person's to another, Maya caught a glimpse of the rippling spirit of her sister as the exchange occurred—a raised eyebrow, clearly asking why she had been channeled. It hadn't happened in a while—seven years, to be precise, since Phoenix had been disbarred and Mia had told her bluntly to avoid it unless expressly asked. Maya gave a returning shrug. Kay would probably count as a formal channeling request.

She landed squarely within bright white nothingness. Something like a cloud—pale and barely tangible—gathered around her solid form.

Ami Fey's teachings, the guide that all Kurain Spirit Mediums followed to become full-fledged, involved a technique known only to them as 'double-channeling,' the first taste of true spirit exchange. A fully developed spirit medium could pull someone with a strong enough previously existing (albeit untrained) spiritual connection into the spirit world with them, to let them understand what it felt like and if they were doing it correctly. Mia had done so with her when she had first started training, taking her hand before channeling Ami Fey as was the custom when channeling for teaching's sake and pulling Maya into the spirit world alongside her. They had landed face down on the ground, gasping. Mia had sat up. And she had given her her first lesson on spirit channeling—one she would not remember again until she returned to the land of the dead.

_No one remembers the spirit world._

Maya had later figured out the message behind the rather vague statement—Mia had never explained the statement, scurrying off to 'find someone' (their mother, Diego, or someone else entirely Maya had never bothered figuring out). She recounted the rules to herself then, sitting up and adjusting her topknot.

_While channeling, your own soul takes the place of that of the spirit, roaming in heaven—or hell, inversely—for however long the channeling takes place. You can walk around, see what the world looks like, even interact with other deceased spirits. You don't dream. You don't sleep. Your physical body will continue to deteriorate or thrive depending on what happens to it in the real world, but your spirit needs neither food nor water, any sustenance. You live among the dead._

_And then, when you are pulled back into your body, the real world, you forget everything._

It was not voluntary—it was simply the mysterious way the dead worked. To Maya, everything that had happened or would happen in the spirit world was going to appear simply as one big blank when she got back to the real world. She would feel as if she had simply fallen into a dreamless sleep. She would forget all about anything that happened in the world—until she returned to the spirits the next time. Ami Fey's next law—your spirit and real world minds act as a one way track, real world memories remaining when you entered the spirit world, spirit world memories staying solely in the spirit world.

"What do we have here…?"

Maya blinked hesitantly, eyes widening. She'd been to heaven when channeling her sister, and she'd been in hell when channeling Dahlia Hawthorne. She'd met dead people in the spirit world before—people she didn't know. Once, she'd met a victim in one of Phoenix's cases and assured him the killer had been brought to justice. She'd even met Ami Fey.

"…Mr. Armando."

She turned around, smiling slightly.

"Well, here's a surprise." Diego still had his red mask, and his inverted clothes, and his coffee cup; however, when he titled the visor up, she caught a glimpse of fully functional brown eyes. "I came here to have an appointment with my kitten, and instead I find her sister. What brings you here to heaven, Maya?"

"Um…" She bit her lip. "Actually, I'm not quite sure."

"Ha…!" Sipping at his coffee, he shrugged. "Know what you want before you get it, girl. Free advice. It's one of my rules." He paused again. "Why don't you take a look through Mia's—or rather, your—eyes, and find out?"

"I can't," Maya replied, raising an eyebrow at the man who had reportedly fraternized freely with Kurain Village for years on end. "I can't stay in the dead and living at once. I'd push Mia's spirit out—either that, or she'd resist my attempt. It's a known fact of spirit channeling. The body is a vessel for one only. It's one of the earliest lessons a medium learns."

"Hm. Now there's a problem." He drained his styrofoam cup, threw it over his shoulder, and held an open palm up over his head. "Blend 107," he shouted—and a mug dropped into his hand from a vague point in the sky above. Maya stared at it as Godot took another sip, acting as if it were perfectly normal.

"Because I've talked to Elise Deauxnim, Misty Fey—wonderful lady, by the way," he said slowly. Maya's gut still twinged at the mention of her mother. "She says that Ami Fey alone could remember her time in the spirit world—and she learned from the dead one prophecy. Someday, two people would reach between the chasm of dead and living, within hours of each other. They alone would remember their dealings in the spirit world, because part of them would still be anchored to the living; and with that, their tangible memory." He took another sip, pausing. "And their names would be Misty and Mia Fey."

"Big deal." May shrugged, pushing a shred of hurt away from herself. "If they've done it, I haven't heard of it. They never told me. Although they are definitely bot capable of achieving the impossible."

"But the thing is…" Godot drank from his cup again, slurping indulgently. "Neither my kitten nor her mother have any recollection of doing such thing."

"Huh?"

Godot's eyebrows narrowed above his mask, and the lights on the metal flickered in rows. He smirked.

"Your legs are getting fuzzy, Maya." He smiled. "Looks like it's time for you to get back."

"I won't remember talking to you," she warned, indeed feeling the pull on her form.

"No matter." He sipped again, splitting into three as Maya's vision of the dead began to falter. "In the seconds before you go, though, think about this."

He took off his mask and gave a smirk, his hair darkening black again, clothing bleaching back to red. It just went to show you that anything was possible in the spirit world.

"I still wear my mask because it has become a part of me. I take it off, hold it in my hand, and though I go by a different name, no matter how I try, I am still one person even though we have different identities."

And then Maya was floating in black again, lying on a blanket of stars and feeling very much as if Godot had once again figured everything out before she had. Even as her memories seeped out of her mind like a syringe sucking away the contents of a test tube, she heard Godot's voice from a mile away, the thought in her mind for seconds before it disappeared into the spirit world, the last of her dead memories remaining.

_Think about it…?_

* * *

"—To hear it, Ms. Fey," the voice said eagerly as Maya blinked her eyes. "So, in other words, it's all okay with you?"

"Um…Kay?"

"Yeah, Ms—wait." There was the sharp crackle of static. "Maya, that's you, isn't it?"

"Uh huh." Maya blinked twice rapidly, pulling herself into reality. "So how was the discussion?"

"Enlightening and productive," was her surprisingly descriptive reply. Most of Maya's customers simply answered with an 'okay.'

"Haha, that's good. I'm always glad to be of service." Mock saluting to no one in particular, she glanced at the receiver. "Care to comment on this oh-so-important conversation with me?"

"Be at People Park in two days and I'm all for it," Kay replied with a grin in her voice. "Behind Eldoon's Noodle Stand, when he usually makes his rotation there. We have a lot to discuss."

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

Sooner or later. The phrase came to mind as Ema ducked in the dusky twilight behind the imposing wheel of the stand. Sooner or later, everything came back to People Park. One might also make the same point about the noodle stand, of course. But Ema couldn't be picky about anything at the moment. Least of all, really, figures of speech.

"Where is Kay?" Murmuring quietly, Ema ducked lower under the wheel—if Kay had been caught, _she_ couldn't afford to be—when all attempt to remain inconspicuous went straight out the window.

"Ema! Hey, Ema!"

Hissing vehemently, she spun, standing—only to stop straight and feel a grin widening on her face into an almost ridiculous grimace as she stepped forward into the shadows, torn between caution and joy.

"Maya!"

"Hey! Haven't seen you since forever!" The spirit medium smiled. "I heard you work at the Prosecutor's Office now! How's Mr. Edgeworth?"

"I saw him recently, he's…" Trying to sum up Edgeworth's personality, Ema shrugged. "He's normal. How's Mr. Wright? Apollo will never give me a straight answer."

"Nick's, well…" Maya scrunched a fist under her chin, looking to a point above and to the right of Ema's head thoughtfully. "He's Phoenix Wright today. I kinda hoped he be Nick. But…well, it's close enough."

Phoenix's cryptic manner had obviously been passed onto Maya, Ema thought to herself, feeling nonplussed. Nevertheless, she gathered herself quickly.

"Um, Maya," she murmured quietly as she glanced around, taking in a small amount of people who were beginning to stare at the exuberant friends. "Maybe we should, y'know, tone it down a little."

"Nah," her friend replied, sitting down. "To the world, we're just two friends who haven't seen each other in a while—"

The tree covering them rustled abruptly.

"—and one self-proclaimed great thief," she finished, swaying to the right to give Kay space to land as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The crowgirl stood up, brushing herself off fastidiously and flicking up the side of her scarf.

"So, now that we're all here, the first official meeting of the Yatagarasu can convene!" Pointing a taunting finger at the sky, Kay laughed. "Haha, I've always wanted to say that!"

"Nice to see you too, Kay," Ema laughed. Kay returned the greeting warmly before she spun to face the spirit medium.

"So you're Maya?" When she received affirmation, Kay's lips tightened as she looked at Maya critically. Finally, she stuck out a hand.

"You're a little different from what I thought you'd be…but you're also exactly what I didn't dare to hope for."

* * *

"What do you mean by that?"

"Huh?"

Slurping salty noodles (Ema couldn't seem to stomach them, but Kay and Maya were vigorously competing with the capacity of their stomachs), Ema sat up from the gently sloping hill they were sitting on. From there, she could see the entirety of the park. Kay stared at the sky, lying flat, bowl of noodles quivering precariously on her scarf as she rolled her chopsticks neatly into her mouth. Maya, also lying flat, placed the bowl beside her head on the grass, letting the noodles trace a trail of soup across her face. She sucked in indulgently, flicking salt all over Ema before repeating the question.

"What did you mean by 'exactly what you didn't dare hope for?'" Smiling slightly, she tilted her head toward Kay. "I realize I'm not much, ya know? No need to humor me."

"I'm not," Kay replied with a smile. Feeling out of place, Ema collapsed onto the ground next to them, tossing a Snackoo straight into the atmosphere. She overshot, and it landed straight into Maya's open mouth instead as Kay continued to speak. "I was listening to your conversation."

Ema didn't know whether to be upset by the breach of privacy or not. Glancing quizzically over to Maya, Ema waited for a reaction, deciding to follow whatever lead Maya gave her.

Maya's decision was to smile at Ema widely.

"Wow. That tastes _amazing._ Recommend Snackoos as a new type of spice for Eldoon's Noodles and I'll love you forever."

_Translation: Ah well. Ignore the stalker-thief and talk about something else._

"Your conversation," Kay continued as if no one had interrupted. "It made me realize…you can think outside the box. Think like me." She glanced toward her again. "You can think like a great thief. But more importantly, you can _feel_ like one. And that's important."

"…Thanks, I think. But seriously, if that's what you think, what would you like with my sister?"

"I…"

Kay looked alarmed Glancing around their ragtag, odd group, Ema wondered if they would ever tell anything to each other straight.

"It's nothing, Maya, I was just wondering—"

"Kay. I already know." Maya nicked another Snackoo, tossing it into her noodle-filled mouth. "A conversation with my sister was long overdue anyway. Pearl was more than happy to channel her." Her lips twitched. "You want a defense attorney, and I am your best bet."

"A defense attorney?" For about the eightieth time that week, Ema felt left out. "But Maya's not a defense attor—"

"I was a legal aide for over three years, and I've been jailed numerous times. I have the perfect balance of compassion for the wrongfully imprisoned and knowledge of the courtroom and defendant rights. I have abandoned my post as Master of Kurain to sign up for an unnamed job at the Wright Anything Agency, a legendary abandoned law firm." Maya sat up, a lone beacon, picking up her bowl and staring into the oily gold.

"That doesn't matter!" Ema sat up too, catching a beaker as it fell from her bag. _If I keep up with all these random bouts of rage, I'll have a heart attack before our first heist._ "Maya's still not a defense attorney—"

"But Mia is," interrupted Maya stoically, lifting the bowl to her lips and taking a miniscule sip.

Ema's mouth opened incredulously as realization hit her like a ton of bricks. "You don't honestly mean—"

The look that Maya and Kay placed on her was all the response she needed.

"But that's cheating!"

"But Mia agreed to it." Maya shrugged. "Mia has the greatest sense of justice I know." Another slurp. Did Maya look confused herself? "If Mia agreed…then there is something going on here that I don't know about."

Ema looked to Kay, who was completely unperturbed by the accusation. Weakly, hoping for an answer that wasn't the one she thought she'd get, she choked over her words. "What exactly is our plan?"

"Maya will announce her new ambition to be a defense attorney." Pressing her fingers together, Kay spoke slowly. The only one left lying down, she was completely calm—the only one of them who knew what they were doing.

"She will study for the bar exam—or pretend to. In reality, she will train for her duties as the Yatagarasu. On the day of the test, her sister will take the test in her place."

"The perfect twin switch," Maya muttered so only Ema could catch it. "Like Iris and Dahlia, but instead of murder, it's plagiarism and thievery."

"Afterwards," continued Kay obliviously. "She will pass the test. She will gain her badge…and take her cases offered." She flicked a piece of dust off her golden lapel. "Then we will have our defense attorney." Even Maya's eyebrows raised, eyes widening excitedly as Kay's tone rose exponentially. "She can channel any of the dead who have a grudge against any of her guilty defendants." Her voice attempted a mysterious tone, and almost succeeded. "She can see and break the secrets of men. And she will become the best defense attorney in the world, equaled only by the deceased Mia Fey—because when she is an attorney, she _is_ the deceased Mia Fey."

"You can't possibly…"

Ema paused. Maya's own eyes were shining brightly now. Kay was still staring at the sky, transfixed by something she traced out with a single finger out amongst the brightening stars.

"With both Maya and Mia Fey in one united entity, we will be unbeatable."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

She hadn't opened the door in five years.

The embodiment of her father and all he had stood for, crammed into one room, and Kay had not even put her hand on the doorknob in three solid years. The last time had been her final test, her last simulated session before she had lost oblivion and entered the thousand-times harder world that no training had helped her face. Her father seemed to live in the dust of the room—or, to be exact, in the automated voice of the computer simulation BYRNE.

She heard the voice recording as soon as she stepped on the threshold of the basement, leading Maya and Ema behind her. It was unmistakably robotic, but unmistakably her father.

"Hello, Ms. Faraday."

Ema leaped back, startled. "What was that?! Is there a ghost?"

"Silly Ema." Maya giggled. "I already told you, ghosts don't exist. Otherwise, how would we channel them?"

There was a pause in which all three of them processed the explanation before laughing at how odd that would sound out of context.

"Don't worry," Kay said with a smile. "It's just the mechanical voice of the room."

"…Come again?"

Kay sighed, absentmindedly reaching back and slipping her hand into the pocket that held Little Thief. "When I was little, I was never allowed in the basement. Once, when I tried to sneak in, I got a mild electric shock from the door and my dad was there within seconds to tell me it was just static. I always wondered how he had known I was there." She blinked. "When I found his diary, I found the directions to entering the room. A simple but hard-to-guess trick."

"So that's why you turned the doorknob the wrong way, but it still opened…" Ema's critical eye swept around the surroundings of the Faraday Manor, still outside the step of the basement. "Even so, what exactly _was_ that voice?"

"I'm getting to that," she said tiredly, racking her brains for the correct wording. "As it turns out, when my father was creating Little Thief, all his prototypes were in the basement. When he succeeded, he compiled all his past designs into one computer—too big to carry to an actual mission, but much more advanced than the portable Thief."

"Advanced in what way?" This time it was Maya, hands clenched, eyes shining excitedly.

"Well," Kay laughed. "As it turns out, it can not only create a situation based on data given, but also track the real-time people walking in that simulation and take down moments when they walk through objects that would be solid and change when someone who is walking through the simulation picks something up or pushes something around."

"Huh?"

"Come in and I'll show you."

* * *

The room was exactly as Kay had left it—the holographic image taking up the entirety of the basement in the guise of a large vault room teeming with nondescript neon green guards, a small yellow safe in the background symbolizing her objective and a faint red dotted line outlining the stack of papers Kay had supposedly stolen. A fake mission, her final test—and the last mission she had succeeded.

She turned. Ema was still gaping in awe, once again lamenting the absence of such material from the Prosecutor's Office under her breath. Taking over, Maya, ever curious, asked—"what were you saying?"

"Think of this as laser tag," Kay said. "You have to get to the end without touching any of the lasers, right? Well, this is like that. For example…"

Glancing around, she walked up to the solitary computer sitting out of the range of the green simulation, pressing 'play,' waiting for the guards to unfreeze and begin pacing their paths and for another stack of papers to appear in place of the already-stolen objective. Glancing around furtively, she nodded at both Ema and Maya before launching herself into one of the evergreen 'shadows' cast by a bookshelf along the 'wall.' Then, for demonstration, she purposefully walked into a holographic green table—it moved at her touch, pushing aside when she shoved it with both hands, as if actually solid. Glancing around and pursing her lips for an example, she shoved her arm straight into the bookshelf.

Automatically, green turned to red and the computer—the BYRNE—spoke. "I'm sorry, Ms. Faraday. You have just interacted with a solid object in an impossible manner. Please start over and try again."

With the final word, the red turned back to green, the guards freezing in place once again as the entire scene paused. Smiling, she turned to a shocked Ema and Maya. Shaking like a leaf, Ema murmured quietly. "So this…is training, huh?"

"Yes," she plowed on, purposely ignoring the surprise on their face. "In this particular case, the objective is to get to the end of the room and pick up the papers."

"We can…pick them up?"

"It's another addition that was too complex for the portable Little Thief." To prove her point, she swiped at a holographic green paperweight—it rose with the palm of her hand, looking as if she were carrying it even as she stuck her other elbow straight through it.

"The big version—the BYRNE, or Big Thief, if you will—is also better in the fact that I can actually have a goal as opposed to just exploring the scene. The Big Thief can even give tips to beginners on how to complete the objective better after it's analyzed their performance on the quest. It's a shame, really, that it never worked all its data into Little Thief."

Maya moved toward the simulation in what looked to be a combination between silent, reverent awe and ecstatic, child-like curiosity—practical Ema, however, dragged her toward the computer. Scrolling through a list of missions she could choose from, categorized by difficulty, she clicked decidedly on the first option. Maya pouted as the overly complex scene shrunk into a simple stack of red-outlined papers on a yellow desk held by paperweight, a lone fake and faceless guard pacing to the side.

She turned imploringly. "Can we just _look around_ the really hard scene again? Please?"

Ema turned to Kay with a nod. Apparently, the fact that Kay's last training session had only a difficulty 7 out of 10 had not escaped her.

"This is what we're here to do," she argued, pressing play. The BYRNE hummed, speaking with the tinny voice of Kay's father—'welcome, Ms. Skye.'

Ema didn't look at all surprised that the BYRNE knew her name without her input. Three people in law enforcement, and the computer was bound to have connection with the official Court Records. Ema filled in the appropriate blanks for the number of people training at a time, the training log hours, and the occupations of the two before turning to Maya and dragging her into the blank green.

"And now, we play."

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"Play, huh?!" Panting diligently, Maya groaned as a 'bullet' ripped through her as she skirted from one bookshelf to the other. Green blinked to red like a traffic signal, making Maya dig her heels into the steel-walled cube that was Kay's basement and skid to a stop as Ema groaned from underneath a desk.

"You made…um…42% this time? That's better than last time." Turning from the computer, Kay grinned. "You managed a pretty good difficulty too."

"I still think…" Stumbling haggardly toward the BYRNE with her arms outstretched, Maya placed her palms onto her knees as she glared at the computer as if it had personally wronged her. "…your definition of 'play'…is skewed."

Standing upward straight through the nonexistent desk, Ema sighed and ran a hand through her hair. The green hologram cut her into two halves—the bottle-green tinted one and the normal Ema. "Well, it was worth a shot. And it _was_ pretty fun…while it lasted."

"And it'll be fine again," Kay urged. "As soon as you pass this level." She turned to the computer, referencing. "You've made it all the way to level twenty—that's a fifth of the way there. Even I only made it to seventy-six in all my time training."

"Well," piped up Ema. "I am a detective, after all—this is like an easier form of fieldwork for me—and Maya's been in plenty of life and death situations herself. Not to mention she's fast on her feet."

"…I still say the difficulty increased exponentially between levels nineteen and twenty," muttered Maya, breath and energy returning to her as she stood up again and crossed her arms over her chest, talking to the BYRNE. "Alright, Big Guy, give us the details! What'd we do wrong that time?"

"'Big Thief' will do, Ms. Fey," the computer returned—all three bit back snorts of laughter. "Now, there are two problems I see with your performance in level B-2-2-0. Number One is your light exposure. Number Two is your teamwork."

"Okay, number one I get," snapped Maya automatically (actually _talking back_ to a machine). "But we work really well together!...I think."

"Yeah, Maya and I are really good friends," Ema muttered reproachfully.

"Be as that may," the BYRNE answered neutrally. "That does not mean that you are compatible in a life-and-death situation. Take Ms. Skye's use of experimental hydroxyacelunodosetrase, which, while questionably legal, served as an excellent distraction for the guards."

"Thanks," the detective replied, beaming with pride. Even Maya had to admit the diversion had been effective—the holographic guards had essentially panicked, mimicking silent pain perfectly as Ema had poured a drop down their backsides in a manner similar to that of a boy slipping a caterpillar down the dress of a girl in front of him at church.

"However, that begs the question," the BYRNE continued, not one to flatter. "Why did you not inform Ms. Fey of the plan?"

"Eh?" Chewing on her thumbnail, Ema reached instinctively for her Snackoos. "Well…"

"If that had happened," the voice wrapped up smoothly, oblivious to her discomfort. "Then both of you would have successfully gotten under the desk and perhaps completed the mission."

"Er…"

"Enough of that, Ms. Skye," the BYRNE said slowly, taking on a contemplative tone. "There's a question I would like to ask you."

"Yes?"

"You are not a forensic scientist in the office. How did you get a hold of this chemical?"

"I—well—"

"Ema," laughed Kay, eyes widening slightly in alarm. "Don't tell me you've gone through illegal dealings without me?"

"W—what?" She physically stumbled backwards, putting a hand to her mouth and looking wildly. "What'd I do? Hydroxyacelunodosetrase—"

"It's a poison," Maya added, almost systematically. Maggey Byrde's case had prompted her to research the various compounds in manmade forms of potassium cyanide—and among them, a certain lethal chemical now resting in front of her eyes. "It's Class A prohibited. Civilians usually don't have access to it." She looked around, blinking owlishly. "I thought Kay had given it to you."

"Maya, I don't have _that_ many connections. Especially not to chemical companies" She shrugged before turning curiously to Ema. "Where _did_ you get it?"

"I—it came in a Forensics Kit! That glimmerous fop…he's the one who gave me the company catalogue! He led me to it! He got me the magazine, I just bought the kit and found the bottle inside, did the analysis, and hydroxyacelunodosetrase came up. I didn't know it was illegal, I swear!"

"What—a company? You mean, like a corporation?"

Kay's voice turned sharp, staccato rapping hard on the base of Maya's ear. Wincing, she turned between the two of them, a single exchange.

"Yeah—I guess. Kristal Korporation was founded by the Kristoph Gavin, but Klavier runs it now, since Kristoph's in jail. I get most of my forensic materials from it," she added rather defensively, crossing her arms. Her firm stance lasted for all of seconds before she bit her lip, raising a single eyebrow. "It's not a corrupt corporation, is it?"

"I don't know," Maya replied, finally giving input. "It sounds rather fishy. I think we should investigate."

"Listen," Ema growled, snapping her fingers in front of Maya's face. "Klavier may be a stupid idiot, but he wouldn't do something that's illegal like that. He's a _prosecutor._"

"Besides," Kay pointed out, turning to Maya and giving her a feeling of overall hopelessness. "Even if it was corrupt, we wouldn't investigate it."

"Why the heck not?" Defending her point fiercely, Maya shrugged, raising a finger much like she had seen Phoenix do before.

"Look." Sighing, Kay held out a hand. "I already had a plan for what we would be investigating—I know which order we're going on. Chances are we won't have much time. I want to get my already-planned things out of the way before we start on anything else."

"But—I have some small ideas now too!" Maya pouted. "You can't just shoot down possible investigations like that!"

"Hm. And here I have the opposite problem…I _don't_ want you to investigate Klavier." Ema shrugged. "I mean, honestly, he _cannot_ be the root of a problem like that."

"You trust people like Klavier too much…despite how much you pretend to hate him," smiled Kay. "But, I have plenty of full-planned ideas already. I'm just saying, we should get those out of the way before we start on other projects. That way, we'll get through it more quickly."

"It's not about _speed_," Maya retorted angrily, beginning to feel a small stubborn shade and a tick of irritation. "It's about meaning. Not about how fast we go through the missions, but about how much meaning there is to each of them. How much good each does."

"I agree," Ema said almost laughingly. "You'll start investigating Apollo and Mr. Wright next. And that's exactly why—"

"I've done my research," Kay argued. "I'm not blaming Phoenix Wright. However, I am _right_ about these people. I have a hunch." She rubbed a finger under her nose, more irritated then smug. "My father's instinct, as they say."

"Your _father's instinct,_" Maya growled, beginning to realize that Kay was indeed expressing an urge to investigate the Prosecutor's Office—and therefore her friends, "seems to have been lost through this generation."

"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that," Kay said lightly. "Now, let's take the level from the top. And remember to work together."

_Work together,_ Maya thought, looking among her friends. _Yeah, Ema and I, maybe, now have a common goal…but we're sure doing great on that, now aren't we?_

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

It was past midnight when she woke up—alone, quiet haunting hour in a house unfamiliar to her. Dark shadows cast over the large, rather ornate room she was in—worthy of Edgeworth, worthy of a prosecutor.

She remembered in that one moment where she was. Byrne Faraday was not above extravagance.

She turned to her right, spying twin beds, one burying Kay under thick sheets and the other supporting a troubled Maya Fey. Both were asleep, breathing quietly. Ema was alone.

Sliding sideways out of bed, her feet touched the carpet as she shivered slightly from the loss of the conserved body heat. Feeling to the chair beside her borrowed bed, she shivered one last time before she slipped her lab coat over her also-borrowed pajamas. Darkness enveloped her, and Ema was dimly reminded of the horror game she had played recently, shivering at the memory of the faceless villain she had faced—however, she pushed away the horrifying specter of her imagination and traced her way through memory to the front door. Kicking her feet into her shoes without bothering to lace up the black ribbons, she opened the door fiercely, ignoring the creak of hinges—the house was too damn big for the sound to make a difference anyway—before spinning out into the night.

* * *

She walked aimlessly through the night, fully aware that this was the way girls got kidnapped—in shadowed forests, without looking back. However, normal girls did not have their left hand on a bottle of hydroxyacelunodosetrase and their right on the gun holster at their hip.

She felt perfectly safe, safer from her supernatural and childish fears than in the manor—which did not make logical sense, and yet Ema somehow still felt like she knew the wild more than she knew Kay's house. She meandered across ivy paths, weaving between trees not-quite-in-a-stupor, memorizing her turns for her inevitable return trip, trying to find the small corner that tried to remind her utopia existed.

The night kept her sleep-addled brain slightly unclear, enough so that the late-night chill did not register in her mind until she found her small paradise—a clearing among trees, a full view of the moon, starless and cloudless, a crescent juxtaposed across the night. Ema squinted and wondered—if she tried hard enough, could she see through the slash in the darkness and find the secret behind the light through the cut?

Was there even an answer there? An answer to all her problems?

It wasn't just everything that had happened with Lana, Phoenix, Miles—it was everything that was about to happen with her, Maya, and Kay. There were already divisions between them, Ema could plainly see. Maya's faint dusting of betrayal, feeling as simply the easiest doorway to her sister as opposed to her own person. Kay's exasperation at Maya's stubborn nature and her urge to have a say when she knew so much less than Kay did. Ema's slowly festering hint of unease, at the thought of Kay putting her friends in danger—all this, hidden behind a thin veil of oblivion. Cracks were already forming, and the armor hadn't even been built yet. And Ema—admittedly the most cynical of the three—hadn't even been fully brought into the fray yet.

Drawing her arms across her chest, she rubbed the goose bumps from her elbows and puffed a cloud of air into the nipping night atmosphere.

All of them were time bombs, the by-products of Phoenix Wright's disbarment, waiting to go off. And Ema shuddered to think about what would happen, when she, the most explosive, got to that point—since the simple lighting of Maya's and Kay's fuses had caused enough of a shock to even register in Ema's incapably oblivious mind.

Yet again, Ema wondered if she was doing the right thing—if her joining of the Yatagarasu was a good thing or a bad thing.

_Then again,_ she thought ruefully, collapsing onto the dirt. _If I wasn't here, Kay and Maya would probably kill each other. Or get caught. Or both, for that matter._

It was an odd sensation, Ema playing peacekeeper—one of her sides that she hadn't used or had to use in many years. The last time, in fact, had probably been when dealing with an unresponsive Lana. And now, to pull that façade out again—it was like pulling out a guide to the universe of seven years ago, only to find that everything was outdated and trying to follow them anyway. Ema felt like she was groping restlessly down a path she couldn't walk and hadn't tried to walk in a decade, hints of her sarcastic nature (the person she was now) peeking through and adding fuel to the fire at the worst of times.

She turned around, half-hoping for Maya or Kay or someone to come along and try to help her sort out her knotted tangle of a life. As expected, no one was there. That would indeed have been too good to be true.

No, it was definitely just Ema and her thoughts—and her thoughts, when left unhindered, turned once again to the darker side of things. Kay was definitely not the intentional villain, the bad guy; however, her remark about investigating the corporation (_Korporation_, she reminded herself with a grimace; Klavier had been quite firm on the K) had scared Ema. Not only because she was afraid of losing her forensic supplier—although that would be a bad thing too. No, the reason Ema was now ticked enough to purse her lips and frown at the ground without bringing out a packet of stress Snackoos was because Kay had single-handedly proven in that one motion that she was not afraid to hurt the ones she loved.

Klavier, while a fop, was still fundamentally a good person—and Kay had no way of knowing that she hated her boss. It didn't matter, in the end, what connections Ema had to any person—her employers, Klavier or Edgeworth; her friends, Apollo, Trucy, and Phoenix; her sister, even. In the end, if she got her goal, if she followed her father's pursuit with single-minded determination, Kay would be willing to sacrifice them all. And until they proved themselves worthy in Kay's eyes—not through Maya's or Ema's lenses, but through Kay's eyes alone—they were in danger.

She had no need to worry about Edgeworth or Phoenix. Apollo and Trucy would most likely be safe through their connection to the latter. Her sister was far, far away in Europe; with luck, she would stay that way. Her other assorted friends had nothing to do with Kay, were not close enough to Ema anyway to even know.

That left only one person—her glimmerous, foppish, idiot of a boss.

Ema had no particular liking for Klavier Gavin, and knew him well enough to know that his easygoing ways and shameless flirting stretched to anything with legs and that she was no special case to him either. However, despite mutual disdain, Ema's loathing for Kristoph Gavin—the harm of both Phoenix and Apollo—was much more limitless.

Make no mistake; she _had_ at first believed Klavier at fault for Phoenix's disbarment, and essentially put him through hell during her first week of work—mixing up papers and purposefully giving him the wrong schedule, going so far as to remove certain papers and forcing him to enter his next case impromptu—until Phoenix had sat her down and gently laid the blame on Kristoph instead. She had seen firsthand the hate Klavier was getting that was still Kristoph's fault; sure, there was the outlier or two that hated him for being a rock star in addition to prosecutor, and some people did actually dislike his character. However, Phoenix Wright still had many fans, and the mere mention of the name Gavin sometimes did people in. Ema now knew—firsthand—how people could still tend to judge the popular prosecutor too quickly. It was really a wonder she hadn't been fired after her first day. Looking back, she wondered if her hated boss had actually helped her keep her job.

And Klavier, no matter how much of a fop he was, did not deserve to pay for his brother's crimes.

Ema's moral dilemma solved, she turned to the much more practical, pressing one—Kay's immediate jump to the conclusion that Kristal Korporation (she scoffed internally at the name) was a company to be suspected.

Hydroxyacelunodosetrase. Ema didn't know how long she'd been using that threat—it was simply the longest, most complicated, scariest-_sounding_ name in her arsenal of chemical knowledge. She'd carted the stuff around to crime scenes. She'd even crammed into her bag right next to her Snackoos, not knowing a drop of the cork and a leak in the glass could be the difference between her life and death. She'd taken it to public forums for her own person experiments, not knowing a random security scan could be the difference between the wrong and right side of the law.

It just went to show you how easily the law could be broken—and why justice was a different matter entirely.

Which was why she was joining the Yatagarasu, technically. Because the law had cracks in it—and no safety net at the bottom. Cracks that Ema was toeing very, very closely.

And all because of hydroxyacelunodosetrase.

Now that she thought about it, what _were_ all the chemicals in her bag? She reached automatically to her side before remembering she didn't have it with her. Nevertheless, she lined them out in her head—color after color, name after name, thousands of statistics and not a single bit of meaning behind them.

All her chemicals went back to that one company. And of those, Ema knew the purposes to perhaps a handful.

She brought the kits based on the chemicals she needed, perhaps one glass vial out of ten in the complete set she brought every time. She saved the rest as backup, convincing herself she'd need the other chemicals someday—however, she never used them. They lay in her bag, taking up space—and, now, small portions of her sanity.

She needed to keep joining the Yatagarasu.

But she also needed to protect her boss. And, unfortunately—when it came to Kay—it looked like only Ema could save him now.

Yawning widely, Ema suddenly became aware of drowsiness creeping upon her. Despite the definite autumn chill, a tingling warm feeling spread from head to toe as she resisted the urge to fall back and sleep right then and there. Maybe she'd come up with a plan of action tomorrow…

"You'd better thank me for this, you glimmerous fop," she breathed as she clambered up, joints still weary from her earlier exertions with Maya and Kay.

"And a raise wouldn't be bad either," she murmured angrily to the sentinel moon. "That is, if you ever managed to figure out about us without Kay killing me."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

"Ten bucks on Kay killing you first!"

"Shut up! Why'd you have to drag me into this?!"

There was a momentary lull as Kay struggled to gather her senses, only to have her concentration shattered again as a more contemplative tone took in the voice of Ema Skye. "Actually, at the present _you're_ standing closer to her…_and_ you did more to her…I think I'll take you up on that offer."

"What—? Aw, crap…no fair! You moved backwards!"

"Hence the reason I have legs—so I can walk. At the moment, preferably _away._"

Kay blinked away the dust in the corners of her eyes to see Ema and Maya standing over her, respective earthy shades and flamboyant purple bubbling into her eyes. Ema's voice continued as her figure withdrew from Kay's line of sight, Maya jolting back in alarm.

"And I see she's coming to right about _now_…so…"

"What's going on?" Kay yawned, raising a hand to rub her face. Halfway through the motion, she froze.

"Maya." Her voice came from far away, sounding much like she felt—torn between confusion, humor, anger, and the desire to drop back into bed and sleep. She turned toward the mahogany vanity across from her bed, surveying herself, finally deciding on confusion.

"Why is my body green?!"

* * *

"Blame Maya."

When Kay strode into the sunlit greenhouse/miniature kitchen duo, successfully rid of her verdant color, Ema was already sitting at the small table of the conservatory. A cup of weak lemon tea in her hand and a jelly doughnut on the small plate in front of her, she barely looked up as the girl entered the room, instead choosing to utter those two words.

"Huh?"

"Yeah…" Maya scratched the back of her neck, laughing. "Ya see, I originally wanted to do that thing where you stick a Kool-Aid packet in the showerhead."

"She asked me to dismantle the thing…I couldn't do it." Ema took a last bite of her doughnut, licking her fingers as Maya chuckled and produced a thick marker from her pocket. "So we compromised."

"…You mean to say you colored me in with washable marker?!"

"That's the gist of it, yeah," muttered Maya, still laughing slightly as she pried a bag of herbal green tea out of the array in front of her before heading over to the cupboard of dry food. "I wanted to try a prank out, and there was no green Kool-Aid, and besides, I couldn't get the showerhead open. So…" She waved her hand back and forth dismissively, most of her body still hidden behind the door because she leaned her head out quizzically. "Hey, where's the ramen?"

"Cardboard box on bottom shelf," Kay replied as she grabbed a crumb from Ema's plate, munching indulgently despite the detective's protests. "I guess I'm lucky you didn't go with Kool-Aid, that would have made it longer lasting…"

"Yeah, see? Blessing in disguise, no harm done!" Bouncing cheerily out of the room, Maya smiled behind her as she skipped away. "I'm just gonna go cook this, 'kay?"

There was a momentary silence before Kay stood, wandering toward the same pantry and retrieving a loaf of stale bread and pale butter. "She's unique, isn't she?"

"Odd way of putting it," Ema replied with a smile. "You'll need to be more specific."

"I mean…her way of thinking. It's intriguing. Very roundabout." She spread the butter thick on the crust and thin in the middle, folding it in half and munching. "I like it."

"You like it until it hurts you," Ema shrugged, sipping her tea again. "She means well, and it's usually okay, but sometimes it gets out of hand. Then again, I was like that too." Placing the cup down, the scientist's eyes skimmed the table in search of something to eat. Settling on another doughnut, she sighed. "There was that one time during Phoenix's birthday where the two of us combined practically blew apart a good portion of the Gatewater Hotel."

"Do tell." Kay's eyes gleamed. "What happened?"

"It involved a science kit and Ami Fey's recipe for holy water," she muttered bluntly. "We replaced a couple of ingredients since we couldn't find the actual things. They didn't work."

"You two sound destructive," she laughed, happily startled to find that they were all really quite similar—or at least had been. "Then what changed between you guys? Where did you two start becoming like different people?"

"When my sister and my role model started turning into unresponsive," she replied. "Maya'd already gotten over her sister's death and been rebuilt before Mr. Wright's disbarment, she had more scope of recovery." Viciously gnawing on the pastry, Ema offered up a small smile. "For me, both happened at the same time. It also might have to do with the fact that Maya still had people immediately afterwards—her cousin and such. Me, I had no one." She paused, thinking more. "Oh, and she had to run her village. Responsibility and routine. That helps too." Nodding, Kay blinked as jelly flew from the center of the doughnut Ema waved over her head in emphasis. "And, like I said before…me, I had none of those things. So I fell apart."

She laughed. It wasn't the cracked, insane laugh of someone completely gone. It wasn't quite a completely normal school-girlish giggle deserved of someone barely past their twenties either. Kay couldn't quite identify where it placed; the fact that Ema herself knew she wasn't completely okay was proof enough that she was capable of dealing with her pain.

"Hey!" Maya had entered the room, sporting a large bowl of ramen on the crook of a single elbow. "Kay, do you have any microwave burgers or something? Oh, and what're you talking about?"

"Microwave burgers? Yeah, I guess, but isn't that much ramen enough for you?"

"Exponential stomach growth," Maya managed with difficulty as she slurped and spoke. "Besides, I can always eat another burger."

Kay took in the grinning face of her new friend, the grin now beginning to morph into slight confusion despite the undeterred pattern of her noodle-eating. "Is something wrong? Again, what exactly are you talking about?"

"Not much," Kay coughed out, licking her finger and rubbing off a last dot of verdant dye from her skin. "Just about all of us and how we're doing."

"Hm?" Giving up with her chopsticks, she simply tipped the bowl to her mouth and took a great intake of breath. "Well…we might not be that good at working together yet," she admitted, placing the bowl down and lifting her chopsticks into the air with a raised fist and a confident expression. "But we're going to do great! We _are_ doing great! I can tell!"

Kay and Ema looked together at her confident expression, her hand still raised, her smile remaining on her face even as she finally lowered her utensils to gain better access to her food. Maya sat down at the table, placing her feet on a spare stool nearby and continuing to munch nonchalantly as Ema turned back to her doughnut and Kay chewed morosely on the crust of her bread. There was a silence borderlining amiable.

"…Y'know, I think we're doing fine."

Somehow, Kay managed to believe the two comrades. Gulping down another bite, she stood and scraped her food into a bin, managing a smile and an accompanying laugh.

"C'mon guys. Let's train! Then, I've got something to tell you…"

* * *

_{?_

Dahlia Hawthorne had been firmly six feet under for eight years.

The girl's fingers traced the phone lightly, dexterity on full display, nimbly skirting over the intricate and fine workings of the sleek model in her hand. Tapping the luminescent screen of the phone, her lips curved into a smile.

It was simple, really—all she had to do was pick up the receiver, dial the number scrawled in her hand, and use her persuasion to convince the girl on the other end who was already too sensitive to the world's opinion _anyway_ to listen to the doubts already spreading in her mind.

One phone line to another, straight from her office in the metallic building to the cord phone of near ancient making in the third room on the right at Kurain Village. One line connected her and her goals—_their_ goals—to each other; a line that spread like a web, certain to ensnare the lives of so many more people.

All she had to do was pick up the phone and dial the number.

And, because it wasn't like she _hadn't_ trapped people in her intricate web of lies before, she picked up the phone and tapped her fingers over the touchscreen again before setting the speaker up full blast and placing her cellular onto the table in front of her before leaning back. A small beep, a dial tone, and then an equally neutral voice—'hello?'

So innocent, naïve. She couldn't help but smirk.

"Dahlia Hawthorne has been pushing up daisies for eight years."

There was a pause, the faint sound of breathing, the last vestiges of prey's life moments before ensnared. The fly was caught already.

"…And?"

Leaning toward her desk, the girl smirked.

"Oh, nothing. I simply thought you ought to know."

* * *

**I APOLOGIZE FOR LENGTH. SHORT UPDATE IS SHORT. /shot**

**Review?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Right after the publication of the last chapter, my friend's mom got cancer. She died sometime in December.**

**I had Speech and Debate tournaments every week for the last two months.**

**Speech and Debate season is over. Life is slowly slipping back to normal. If I had no excuse back then, I definitely have no excuse now.**

**I'll be doing things differently. Spending more time writing, dedicating more free time, no more procrastinating. Expect more of me.**

**I never give up on my stories. Promise...okay?**

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

"So what is this, anyway?"

"This," gestured Kay widely with a kind of grand vindication, "is Furnivall Funds."

As Kay proceeded to collapse into the small seat, sipping tea without any of her mentor's decorum, Maya pulled the manila folder closer to her as she abandoned her instant noodles. "I think I've heard of it before…"

"It's a local firm," Ema replied, thoughts drawing to the gossip by the water cooler in the precinct. "A small bank that's really well known."

"It looks like the meditation shack at Kurain," Maya said bluntly, lifting a black-and-white screenshot from the folder and delicately pushing it toward them as if disgusted of the contamination. "Dark, damp, and lacking of basic human luxuries like electricity and running water."

"That happens to be what it's known for," Kay replied, leaning over to prod at another document. "Run of the mill exteriors…and service that could put a federal depository to shame. Service quality is so high, you'd be hard-pressed to find a local name that isn't in some way associated with Furnivall Funds. They make lump sum donations once every other year to some local public service that makes them virtually untouchable. Three years ago, it was the Precinct. Last year, it was the Prosecutor's Office."

"And yet," Ema breathed, holding up a Microsoft Excel 2024 spreadsheet, "its employees are poor and its employers even poorer."

"It takes in the bare minimum to pay off its mortgage," Kay confirmed. "And that means millions of its dollars just disappear—each year, every year."

"You think it's blackmail or bribery?" Maya's eyes were shining.

"I'd say that's the most likely conclusion, yes," she affirmed. "That's actually why I went with this project to start us off—first of all, the fact that it's so poor means it probably has poor security too. Second, chances are there's no underlying deep conspiracy."

"Chances have never been good with me," muttered Maya lowly; however, she grinned at Kay. "So, when do we start?"

"I'd say the best way to get practice is to go on these missions," Kay responded slowly as she fiddled with her pockets. "Even if you fail them, they give you a lot more experience than the training sessions. Besides, you guys progress quickly and seem have had _a lot_ of prior experience."

"I'd still like to have had more experience…wait." Ema blinked rather owlishly. "When _exactly_ are we planning to…um…_invade_ these people?" She paused. "If you've already got a set plan, that is."

"We're a bit pressed for time, actually," Kay replied, checking her watch as if it planned their coming weeks and months. "Detective work seems to be at a low, which is a rarity...in addition, you both seem pretty competent at this point. How does a week sound?"

"_A week?!"_

Two different reactions. Maya raised an eyebrow, albeit wearing a slight frown that was half-covered and effectively dampened by a layer of ramen. Ema, meanwhile, choked on her tea, sputtering and gargling quietly in an effort to stop from spitting it out. Slamming the empty glass onto the table, she gaped, eyes bugging slightly. Kay smiled wryly at her theatrics.

"_Are—you—insane?!_"

Still gasping slightly, the bitter aftertaste of hot water in her mouth as she glanced up at Kay with a gasp. "First of all, detective work _never_ stays at a low for long. Second of all. Do you have _any_ idea how long a mission at the precinct takes? A week is—"

"—Going to have to be enough for us," Kay replied quickly before turning to the third representative. "What're your thoughts, Maya?"

A quick slurp and then the noodles were gone as the spirit medium spoke with a cheerily disappointed tone. "Aw man, I was really hoping to get through all hundred levels…"

There was a small pause, a ten-second mind-boggling stare in which Ema managed to alternate an incredulous stare between Kay and Maya and back before collecting her wits. Kay herself had the identical slightly unperturbed (albeit marginally more amused) expression on her own face, merely quirking an eyebrow as Maya looked up with her own shocked expression. "What?"

"Is that _really_ the thing you're sad about missing out on?"

There was yet another pause. Maya broke it without hesitation or tact. "Yep!"

"…Anyway." Choosing to ignore her rather silly friend, Ema sighed. "I'm just not sure we'll have enough practice to finish this, especially since you, with all your training, haven't managed to get it done once either."

Kay tightened her lips. Ema got the impression that she was pressing down bad memories.

"We're ready, I'm sure," Kay replied. "We just need to rely completely on each other."

"We're doing great with that right now," Maya sighed, as if telling an overdone joke. As if sensing the awkward air that filled the room, she coughed before pushing away empty ramen. "Alright. So, Furnivall Funds…should we be visiting this place in person before we go for the actual mission?"

She proceeded to give a sudden start, remembering something rather suddenly. Her shoulders didn't sag, but they squared as if suddenly readying to carry a bigger burden. "Wait a second. You'd best brief Mia, huh?"

She didn't ask for an answer. Her eyes closed quickly, sliding shut, and she tugged the purple acolyte clothes away from herself as her frame grew to fit the new person she became.

Mia Fey's eyes opened slowly, a slightly lighter shade of brown than her sister's.

"…What is it?"

The odd resemblance between Maya and Mia reminded Ema oddly of herself and Lana. Shaking her head twice, she coughed.

"So, Mia, I'm…"

"Ema Skye. You're Lana's sister, right?" Mia smiled. It was warmer but less familiar that Lana's. "The last time I saw you, you and Maya really hit it off. Then again, you were only about six."

"What?! I don't remember Maya—"

"Oh, I assure you, she was there." Mia grinned widely at that, laughing openly.

"Mia?"

She turned to Kay, smile caught on her face. "Yes, Kay?"

"Wait. You know who I am?"

Mia's small smile seemed to convey every angle of the word 'of course.' "I never enter a courtroom without a case prepared."

Ema blinked, confused, before smiling as a rather ironic thought entered her mind. "But doesn't Mr. Wright usually BS his cases?"

"Wright's a special case," she replied rather shortly, albeit with a small smile on her face. "Mainly because his preparation is the fact that he has no preparation." She pulled a wry, amused yet slightly irked face, seemingly remembering some mishap or the other involving the ever infamous Phoenix Wright. "I assure you, he didn't get any of it from me."

Ema was about to protest when she noticed the slight wink the spirit gave them. Mia Fey was apparently not above the everyday phenomenon of sarcasm.

"Moving on—I take it I need information? Presumably over a new case?"

"Well…" Kay blinked. "I just think we could use your advice on a _mission_, perhaps?"

"…I see." There was a pause in time, a moment where no one said anything. Mia's piercing gaze swept from Ema to Kay, before she tilted her head and spoke.

"I'm not here to give you advice, Kay. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that you're on your own."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

Mia Fey became Maya Fey in a sweep of two seconds, a darting gaze to an oblivious sort of vague focus. The acolyte pulled her robes closer to her small form, looking up. "How'd it go?"

There was a slight grin that Kay didn't have the heart to crush—although she didn't even have the will to speak at all. Ema filled the silence for her, blankly blinking. "…She said we were on our own."

Smacking a palm to her forehead, Maya sighed. "What did you _say_ to her?"

"I don't know," she replied numbly. "I think she was made 'cause we didn't have a case…" Looking up at Maya pleadingly, she shrugged. "D'ya think she's abandoning the entire project?"

"Um…" Biting her lip, Maya shrugged. "Well, one of the things Mia really feels strongly about—especially lately—is the fact that the dead belong in the spirit world and we belong in the real world. She likes to tell us that we're breaking a sort of really important boundary when we call on spirits, and we shouldn't do so unless we really really have to." Sighing, she stuffed a doughnut into her mouth. "You get what I'm saying?"

"I think," Ema answered, cutting in for her. "So, she's slightly angry because we didn't _need_ her at that point…that means she hasn't given up on us, huh?"

"Hope not." Kay sighed. "She seems so nice…and relatively powerful…and we need her. D'ya really think she's still okay with us? She'll help us again after everything?"

"…That's what seems like is the most likely thing to happen, yes." Maya continued eating, stuffing a scone, a crepe, and a Chinese bun into her mouth while she laughed about 'multiculturalism.' "Mia forgives, and she's not exactly what one would call cruel; I think she'll be okay with us."

"I still needed advice, though…I don't know what I'm going to do at Furnivall." Collapsing wearily, Kay sighed. "I more than a little bit nervous. Do you honestly think we need more practice?"

"I think we're _probably_ good—well, we'll survive at least—_Maya, you just had breakfast!_"

"There's always space for food!" Maya protested, clutching an arm protectively around a plate of syrup-slathered pancakes. "Besides, I just channeled someone!"

"Last I checked, channeling doesn't take energy," Ema snorted. Nevertheless, a small smile bloomed over her face. "Seriously, though, Kay. I'm kind of iffy on the fact that we're going to be starting so soon…but if you think we're good, I think we're probably okay. Like I said—at the very least, we'll survive and figure out what we've been doing wrong. And if we succeed, then all the better, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. I'm just a bit worried. It's been a long time since I've felt this good, I don't wanna get my hopes up—you know?"

"So…" Brows furrowing, Maya gulped down a mouthful. "Does that mean we're getting more practice or not? Because I really want to go through all the levels—for training, of course."

"You really do have a one track mind, don't you?" Sighing, Ema glanced at Kay. "I don't think so. If we really are trying to get there as quickly as possible—"

"Yeah, speaking of that, how do you define 'as quickly as possible?'"

"Try I'm hoping in a week or so…or sooner, if something crops up." Putting her fingers together, Kay shrugged. "That's not the point, though. We need to be ready at any time—immediately, as quick as that." She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "If you say we don't need that much more practice—"

"Some more wouldn't hurt," Ema muttered, crossing her arms. Kay diligently ignored her.

"—then I think that we should be okay to go at any time."

"I have my job as a detective, Kay," Ema reprimanded slightly. "And Maya has her job as a medium. If we have an appointment, whether from a customer or from court, we should take that into consideration."

"The Yatagarasu should come first, though." Kay's eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, the appointments for customers can be delayed or passed to other mediums, and the court and the Yatagarasu are fighting for the same thing—justice. But the Yatagarasu does it more effectively, without the confines of law."

"Yeah, I guess." Ema drew her arms further across her chest, tightening her grip on her own lungs. "But still, it's a paying job—I need to keep it in mind at least, yeah?"

"Mmn." Kay shrugged it off, signifying her grudging consent—or so she hoped. "Alright. So, if that's all—I really need to be going to my room. My dad still has some of his old papers on Furnivall. I'll see if I can't dredge something up."

"Hang on a sec." Maya spoke slowly, taking a gulp of water. "Should me and Ema help? Or…" She trailed off uncertainly.

"Maybe a bit more training?" Ema cut across abruptly as Kay turned to speak. Finding nothing wrong with the idea, the crow-girl nodded.

"Sure, why not? Careful, though; if something does come up during my research and we end up going it sooner rather than later, it's best that we're all ready to go."

"How can you be injured in a holographic simulation?!" Standing, Maya wiped her fingers on the seat. Kay and Ema simultaneously flinched—Ema at the state of uncleanliness, Kay at the rather embarrassing memory.

"It's just something about crashing into a wall—hey, stop that!" Despite her words, she grinned as both Ema and Maya began laughing slowly. "In my defense, I there was a gigantic green bookshelf so I thought there was still space to hide behind it! Also, there were about three people behind me—stop laughing!"

Finally allowing herself a giggle as her comrades fell into peals of laughter, Kay waved them off, still chuckling, as she stood. "I'm leaving now."

"Alright." Ema gathered herself, poking at Maya's side. "C'mon, Maya. Let's get to the basement."

As Kay turned away, she quirked an eyebrow at the two's retreating backs. Try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from sucking in her cheeks and pursing her lips in a decidedly tense expression as Ema leaned over to whisper in Maya's ear second before both turned a corner and were gone.

Shrugging, she chalked it up to coincidence and paranoia before turning her own corner and opening the door to the main office. Flinging the doors wide, she studied the dust thoroughly before crossing the room in quick steps and opening the window. Sunlight filtered in, touching the surfaces that hadn't been lighted for years.

"Hello, father."

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"Again!"

Laughing rather viciously as she skipped, Maya exchanged a smile with Ema as the forensic detective swept to the computer and punched in the next number viciously. As she ran by, Maya held up her hand for a high-five, which she received with force.

"We finally passed that stupid level!"

"Mmhm." Humming noncommittally, Ema continued pressing buttons. "So, we started level twenty—what, yesterday? What's the final tally?"

"Twenty four hours and some amount of minutes, I don't know; I am not planning to waste one more second of brain power on that thing." Waving the neck of her water glass like the final deliverer of judgment, Maya spoke seriously. "Anyway, isn't now the best time to take a break?" Propping her hands behind her head whilst carefully avoiding spilling her water, Maya grinned. "Basking in the afterglow of our victory and all that?"

"Sounds great," Ema replied. "It's a lot like a saying we have in the precinct—'remission after mission.'" Giving a slight grin, Ema seemed on the verge of turning back into her cheerful, bubbly self before slumping back into her no-nonsense mode, shoulders sinking and frown sliding onto her face. "We have to continue, though, if we want to be prepared."

Looking up as she took a swig from a cup of water, Maya glanced at her friend. "You don't think we're prepared for Furnivall yet, do you?"

"Do _you?_" Gesturing at the screen, Ema shrugged. "We're barely at level 21. I think Kay's rushing us into these way too fast." Shaking her head and pulling away from the computer, she turned to the green hologram with her hands on her hips. "If we really are leaving in a week, there's no way we'll successfully pull this off without a hitch."

"Hey, don't say that. Nothing's impossible."

"I'm starting to think Kay is," Ema replied with an angry mutter. "She's refusing to sweat a single detail of our case. If we keep this up, it's not going to be the Yatagarasu anymore." Rolling her head backwards in a frustrated manner, she closed her eyes and sighed as she collapsed into a nearby spinny chair. "It's going to be Kay Faraday and two blind followers."

"Ema, it's not that bad, honestly, 'kay?" Shaking her head angrily, Maya sat on her own chair, propping her elbows onto her knees and watching Ema with a rather annoyed expression. "Sure, Kay's exerting her force now, but she kinda needs the security of being in control of her father's own mission. I'm sure it'll all pass soon…in a while or something, maybe."

"Will it?" Sighing, Ema continued spinning idly. "When, then? After how long? I don't think I can stand another second with this side of Kay Faraday."

"Mr. Edgeworth sees something in her," Maya sighed in reply. "I trust his judgment."

"So do I." Ema shrugged. "I just wish it wasn't so confusing to decipher. She seems innocent and nice enough…Mr. Edgeworth likes her…she's working for a good cause…If only I could just bring myself to like her too. Or if she could just drop the attitude."

"Yeah, you're both kinda stubborn, aren't you?"

"Were you _trying_ to make that an understatement, or did that just happen?" Ema gave her the sideways view of a wry smile. "Seriously, though. She won't give up on her position…if I give up on mine it'll only make both of us angrier and make her keep up with her current habits that eventually drive us off the deep end."

"So in the end, no one wins anyway." Maya shook her head. "How—exactly—do you plan to solve this problem?!"

"Oh, I don't." Ema replied with a small grin. "I plan to let the problem fester like a boil until it explodes—and then, one way or another, it solves itself."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"It means I'm going to let the tension grow until it explodes, and then we'll hash it out and see where it goes from there." Ema's voice grew short.

"So you mean you might leave the team if that happens?"

"Might," she answered nonchalantly. "Might even mean I'll make my own team. Might mean Kay lets go of the idea of the Yatagarasu entirely, although I highly doubt it given her…conviction." She continued working, fiddling with various materials on the computer to set it up for stage twenty-one. "Might mean we all get caught during a mission and thrown in jail, if that's where it boils over." She turned, giving a grand gesture or a shrug. "Who knows?"

Fighting down a distant sort of lax panic in her stomach, Maya closed her eyes. "When d'ya think it'll happen?"

"A month? A mission? A practice? Who knows?" Again with the shrug. Ema was about as clueless as Maya. "I honestly have no idea. I guess we'll have to see."

"So do you really believe it'll happen?"

"At this rate, yes, it'll happen, and soon." Ema's voice came short, now obviously conveying annoyance. "Can we practice now?"

"Sure thing." The spirit medium stood. "So, what's this stage like?"

The surroundings of the holographic green flickered into formation—that is to say, a solid green slab.

"I see…nothing." Sighing, Maya rose to tap on the green. Her hand met air, but it sunk straight through the wall, showing it was indeed meant to be solid. "So we've got this random green wall?"

"I think it's safe to assume that this is the obstacle we need to get through," sighed Ema. "Who came up with this obstacle course, anyway?"

"Well, in all likelihood, Furnivall's so poor that this may very well be their only form of protection." Chuckling, Maya trailed her fingers around the approximate location of where the wall would be. "Consider it practice?"

"Eh, why not." A small half smile curved Ema's mouth before she turned rather worriedly toward Maya. "Maya…Kay's just like us, with insecurities. And she's a really good person at heart, and she's been really nice to us…she _has_ asked for our opinion…" She bit her lip, as if willing herself to take back all her hate. "She's been okay. I'm just kind of worried with the way things are going."

"She is too," Maya sighed. "But I know what you mean. We'll pull through, alright?"

"Yep." Ema pushed on the wall again, grinning when the simulation shook slightly. "And if not, we've got our backup jobs, one scary prosecutor, and on influential ex-attorney watching our backs and protecting our honors, right?"

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

"NOOOOOO!"

Chuckling at Maya's theatrics but scowling in slight irritation nevertheless, Ema nodded sympathetically. "I know! So close!"

Fingertips an inch away from the objective while Maya distracted the guards, the ringing of Ema's cell phone had jolted her hand, causing it to fly back and alert a nearby guard of her presence, resulting in their failure. Nodding along with Maya in disappointment, she nevertheless strode to a corner of the basement. "Hang on, I gotta pick this up, okay?"

The Steel Samurai ringtone blasted into her ears—she'd kept it for nostalgic reasons in Europe and never found the time to change it once she got to the states. It was peppered intermittently, however, with small beeps—it marked the call as urgent. Unfortunately, that also meant that it was from the one and only Klavier Gavin.

"What is it, fop? I'm kinda _busy_ right now."

"Busy?" The voice had a distinct German accent, but was nevertheless amused and more than slightly confused. "Why, Fraulein Detektiv, am I mistaken, or did you take today off? You should not be busy today."

"I took today off because Maya was coming into town and I wanted to see her and Mr. Wright," she replied quickly, exchanging a glance with the spirit medium at the mention of her name. It was a half-truth, anyway. Hopefully the prosecutor would reach the unspoken conclusion that wasn't technically true. "So…"

"I understand. She will not be there for long, so you're spending time with her, ja?" She could practically hear his grin through the phone. "In addition, you detest speaking to me." The cheery tone lasted seconds more before it dropped, his voice becoming serious. "However, this is important. Bear with me; it won't take long."

"I'm all ears for now."

"Remember the Cadaverini case?"

"Which one?" Ema arched one eyebrow. "There are plenty. The various lawsuits against that female Tender Lender's Cadaverini have all been dropped (rather mysteriously, might I add, though a certain lazy fop won't look into it), Bruto Cadaverini has always been untouchable, and the mob's committed so many murders I don't even want to think about it—"

"The one involving the death of Bruto Cadaverini's cousin. The only one we have real dirt on." Klavier scoffed. "Bruto himself is like the law banning underage drinking. Everybody knows it exists and who's at fault, but everyone continues to let it slide anyway."

Ema tensed, resisting the urge to laugh at her employer's final crack. A messy affair involving one of Bruce Cadaverini's direct cousins murdering his own brother, Ema'd been on the case herself, and quite a lot of sleepless nights had been fought off with caffeine and Snackoos before the case had closed with a horrifying failure. In retrospect, the case had only made it to court in the first place because of the falling out the homicidal cousin had had with the head of the Cadaverini clan—when the two forgave each other before the final day in court, the evidence, witnesses, and prosecutor had dropped like flies.

"What is it?"

"One of the witnesses—one of the scorned mob members—has come back to speak to us." There was a pause. "I know what you are thinking, fraulein. The mob and he have had a falling out, so I am going to continue on the assumption that this is real information."

"So what does this have to do with me?"

"Assuming the mob does not figure out what is happening and strike a deal with him before he is called in for questioning, I'd like you to assist me in the questioning process. He's coming whenever Bruto Cadaverini's back is turned, so I want you to be alert at all times of day and night for the rest of the week. You know how the mob is when they say 'whenever available.'"

Ema gave a humorless laugh. "Ten bucks he turns up sometime between twelve o'clock midnight and eight o'clock in the morning."

"I think late night hours are more likely. You're on." The prosecutor gave a rather unsightly snort. "At any rate, keep your schedule relatively loose this week, okay?"

Automatically, she stiffened nervously and glanced at her surroundings, pulling herself into the present with the obligations the Yatagarasu presented her—the Furnivall mission. "Um…there's another urgent thing that could…potentially…fall sometime this week?"

"Potentially?" Klavier's voice was sharp. "You do not have a set plan for this 'thing,' and yet this is urgent but still does not involve work?"

Chewing on her lip, Ema attempted to keep her mouth in motion without the use of Snackoos—a newly found nervous tic. "Fop, my personal life is none of your business." Trying to take a normal turn, she sighed in what she hoped came through the speakerphone as annoyance. "Honestly. Chances are I'll be okay if the guy comes at a decent time."

"The mafia is never good at settling things at decent times, I just told you." The smooth-talking prosecutor rambled on, grating on Ema's nerves as it drew more and more curious glances from Maya. "What is it you are planning, Ema?"

"Meeting with Maya," she said at random, wincing at the poor excuse she realized too-late had already been used.

"Aren't you visiting her today?"

"She's staying at a hotel sort of nearby. She's in the city in the first place for her channeling work; she wants to meet again when she's free. Since her customer also hasn't set a good time, she's kind of iffy." Applauding herself mentally, Ema nodded grudgingly as Maya laughed silently, nearing Ema to listen in on the conversation.

"…As you say, Fraulein." The prosecutor's voice was still skeptical. "Just to make sure you aren't selling precinct secrets," he added with just a touch of amusement, "Can I speak to Maya?"

Handing over the phone accordingly, Ema nodded at Maya, who grinned and winked.

"Hi. Klavier Gavin, right? I've heard about you." There was a pause. "We don't hand out our customer's information at Kurain. It's kind of a classified thing." The sound of Klavier's odd inflection over the phone—Ema assumed it was the fact that English was his second language. "Yeah, we usually don't leave the village. But seeing as I'm now the highest medium at Kurain who isn't the Master, if circumstances prevent customers from going themselves, I'm the one that goes on the move to help." Klavier's voice sounded like a series of blips over the phone. Ema fought the urge to laugh as Maya's voice took on a laughing tone. "No, I don't have ties with the Mafia and I'm not asking Ema for secrets. Go ask Mr. Edgeworth or Nick or Franziska or something—what? No, I don't have a problem with Franny's first name, why—" Maya gave a started laugh, mingling with Klavier's undertone. "Oh. Nope, not scared…not _too_ scared. What do you mean? No. Of course not. Bye, Prosecutor Gavin." The phone closed, and Maya held it out expectantly to Ema's raised eyebrows. "What?"

"…You get along surprisingly well with the fop."

"Eh, he's not that bad." Maya shrugged. "A little flashy, though. And I swear he adds in gratuitous German on purpose, to give himself more 'foreign charm—'" She inserted air quotes. "—but other than that, he seems like a normal rock star-prosecutor hybrid with an understandably large air guitar complex." As Ema swiped her phone, Maya smiled. "Why do you ask?"

"The fop's just a stupid git." Ema winced at her insert of the English phrase, having spent a majority of her time in Europe alternating between the UK and France. She was still working on re-Americanizing her language. "I don't see how anyone can like him straight off the bat, what with his _ego_ and his _German—_what?!" She paused in her ticking off of Klavier's traits on her fingers to glare at Maya's laughing.

"Oh, nothing." The spirit medium straightened. "So, let's get back to figuring out this level!"

"Yeah. Level twenty-one, here we go again," the detective muttered, striding over. In two fluid motions, she shut off her phone and slid it into her pocket. "And heaven help any sort of fop who gets in my way, glimmerous or not."

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

Books lay scattered around her, opened to various pages, all containing various information and speculation on Furnivall Funds. The problem, Kay was soon beginning to realize, was sorting through which information was actually true…and which information was provided courtesy of one Calisto Yew.

"The handwriting looks feminine…but…"

Tossing the book aside, Kay rubbed her head deeper into her hands, groaning. "Gods, what am I supposed to do?!"

Conflicting reports from different members drew her attention to manuscript after manuscript. One hand twiddling idly with the dial of the radio beside her, Kay flipped a page of the book as she scanned with her eyes narrowed. It showed a detailed drawing of the front lobby, citing various locations of potential openings to secret compartments and how they'd been investigated in the short time the original three had allotted to the bank.

"I don't—understand—"

Had she chosen the wrong mission for her friends? According to the final briefings, Furnivall Funds had something to hide and nowhere to hide it, all potential locations to hide anything explored except for the most obvious (and therefore least likely) of places. The original three had scoured the place well, and found nothing. They'd snuck in at night and searched, unfortunately finding nothing whatsoever. The only conclusion they'd came to was that the secret was either completely intangible (done by hand, which is always difficult when it comes to large transfers of money) or it was simply hidden too well for the well-trained Yatagarasu eye.

"Two safes were found in the main office—one with rather expensive gold bars and one with a pair of diaries. The gold bars appeared to be simply stored for safe keeping and, while large and expensive, were not enough to compensate for the lost money. One of the diaries hadn't even been started and the other had exactly one entry simply detailing the course of the main boss's day. It was easily assumed that the empty one was to be a continuation of the first once that one was completed, seeing as the two were identical."

Reading aloud, Kay followed her finger across the words before she threw the book across the room with a groan. "There's no information here!"

Continuing to mess with the dial, she listened to bursts of words, figuring that a break would be healthy for her overstressed mind, closing her eyes and repeating them as they came. It was a trick her father had taught her to help her improve her memory.

Static lingered in her ears as she spoke, struggling to make up and remember the words as they piled up second by second. She paused on certain channels that caught her interest before switching again rapidly.

"FM Radio...19.203 Happy Music for the Soul…Ultrasound that stops…Injection that creates a special genome…Homicide in Pleasantville…Thank you for watching Car Talk…'Winals' were known as days in Ancient Mayan…Furni—_Furnivall?!_"

Turning the knob sharply in shock, Kay cursed as she twiddled the knob back, searching for the channel again. Switching to the volume and cranking it up to static pitch, she winced yet again as she listened.

"—once again declined comment when we tracked him down to his latest…er…avenue."

The reporter's voice was rather sarcastic and slightly pitying before her counterpart cut her off. "Well, Karen, what do you think about this elusive owner?"

"I think I'm surprised at how badly off he is," came the answer. "When you're the owner of what should be a very successful business, it's hard to admit that you're homeless, but what can a person do?"

"Yes, and since Furnivall isn't releasing its bank reports, one starts to imagine _why_ it isn't well off. Gambling, drug addictions, illegitimate children—"

The radio talk show closed with a click as Kay glared at the device rather angrily. She didn't have time to listen to audience speculation; however, the fact that the owner of Furnivall Funds was presumably homeless itched at the edge of her consciousness. If the person in the highest rank of the conspiracy was homeless, there were only a couple of options.

"A higher up is weaning off money for his own benefit," sighed Kay, quoting again from another one of the original Yatagarasu's journal before moving onto her own contemplation. "But if the _highest_ up has no knowledge of this, then how is it possible? And if the highest up does know about it…then why is he not also doing the same thing for his benefit?" She paused again. "And if the boss knows about it but hasn't done anything to stop it, then why is he still the boss?!"

She flipped through the books again, blinking curiously through the pages before her eyes caught on to a single image sketched onto the back cover of the latest journal entry. Since it wasn't on a page, it couldn't be ripped out. Tea-stained and faintly sketched in pencil before crudely outlined in thin pen, Kay nearly squinted to glare at it. A clear depiction finally came into focus.

A sketched picture of a normal clock with slanted, handwritten numbers and slightly curving hands. The minute hand pointed sharply at the twelve, the second hand doing the same. The hour hand, however, was barely visible; as Kay squinted, she realized that it had not been outlined in the same pen, left in pencil. It, too, pointed at twelve. However, it was drawn purposely lightly, as if trying not to be seen but to exist nevertheless.

She tilted her head at it, wondering quietly about its meaning before shrugging and shutting the book. Either way, it meant one thing.

It was time to look in her father's personal archives.

* * *

Kay absolutely positively _hated _her father's archives because they contained nothing but speculation. What's more, they contained speculation that was drawn only by Byrne Faraday himself; Detective Badd and Attorney Yew had had no say whatsoever. In fact, now that Kay thought about it, they probably didn't even know it existed.

The archives themselves were hidden away, isolated on one bookshelf in the corner of her father's rather large study and alphabetized by letter. As Kay turned to search through them, a scowl grew even larger on her face at the number of cases potentially on file. So many things to go through that may or may not exist.

"F for Furnivall."

Pulling out the appropriate book, she scanned through it quickly, arching an eyebrow at various crossed-out pieces of information and ludicrous-not-so-ludicrous schemes. Lines were dran haphazardly, connecting pieces of information to others with double bonds, single bonds, and red pen. She squinted to follow it all.

"Pointless, kinda sketchy, not reliable because it's a source from Yew, all crossed out—huh?"

A mirror image of the clock on the back cover of her other book was situated in bold sharpie marker on the last page of this book, the hour hand still faintly outlined. An arrow pointed straight from the page before it straight to the clock, and from the clock to a single label—'Notebook 17' scrawled in spindly script.

The book slammed shut with force, Kay shoving it back into the bookshelf at an awkward angle as she turned and leaned against the shelf, eyes widening.

Her father's notebooks were sorted in numerical order, from most important to least important. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of notebooks in the archives. Notebook seventeen was early on, a small number, brown leather facing her direction on the first shelf in front of the door as soon as she opened it.

Notebook seventeen meant an important case. And Furnivall Funds led straight to notebook seventeen.

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

"_Tomorrow?!_"

Maya's mouth fell open, while Ema's clenched shut. Both pairs of eyes glared at Kay as she cringed slightly.

"Look, it's just—it's super, duper, _uber_ important. There are so many things cropping up with Furnivall at the very center, the first link in the chain. And—to be honest, we're kinda running out of time."

"There's the slight possibility I'm not going to be able to make it—" Ema tried to cut in, but Kay simply turned and shrugged, not letting her finish her sentence.

"Then choose what your priorities are. I'm not going to kick you off the team if you don't put it first," she added with a wry smile at the detective's slightly worried expression. "I know you're relatively new to this and your job's coming first. But I'm seriously hoping you'll stick with us…"

"Ah—well—I guess I'll see what I can do." The girl grumbled, looking away, eye twitching as she tried to hide her reluctance to let them down. "See you later?" She offered a wry smile.

"Mmhm." Watching warily as Ema slammed the door to her car, Kay then turned to Maya. "What about you?" She nudged her with a wink. "D'ya think that 'out of Village medium request' can wait until after Furnivall?"

"Hm." Maya paused a bit before splitting her face in the best grin she could manage on short notice. "Um. Seeing as it doesn't actually exist…I think I could manage."

"Alright. Now that Ema's decided she's gonna stay at home instead of with us because of preparation for Klavier Gavin's case, you'll be rooming by yourself in the old room, right?"

"Mmhm." Maya shrugged. "I'll be fine." She waved her hand. "If you think we're leaving tomorrow, you should go do some research."

The girl gave an affirmative nod, and then Maya was alone with a peel of rubber at her feet and the echoing footsteps and voice of Kay circling her head.

* * *

She spent the late afternoon hours, all the way until eleven at night, wandering through the halls as she explored with a curiosity energetic enough to fuel a thousand cities. Bouncing from room to room, she dug through the house with a practiced spring in her step. Not only was she actually curious, but desperation drove her movements furiously until she finally found her way into a room full of bookshelves and folders. With a small cry of excitement, she snatched off the nearest book—

_Encyclopedia Brittanica._ Just perfect.

Sliding the book on top of a row of others, horizontally and not quite as neatly as before, she dove out of the room and continued searching. A variety of rooms later (including an odd experience in a room devoid of furniture minus a wardrobe that sadly upon closer inspection didn't contain Narnia), she found yet another tome filled room. This time, the shelves lined walls in various up-and-down waves to create more space for color-backed notebooks of questionable material (and therefore value). One wall was simply a large pane of glass cloaked in red material revealing the landscape outside. There were certain cabinets the style of which Maya had seen before used to hold antique porcelain tea sets in Kurain, crystal-paned with intricately carved wood, which instead held leather or hard-backed journals of questionably more importance. The shelves were crammed neatly, an occasional haphazard book here and there marking a childish touch. Most of the books were, however, unmoved, dusty and creating a dark red-green-brown montage in front of her eyes.

She grabbed the first book she could find, flipping with narrowed eyes to the pages—and yes, three types of handwriting filled the lines. The neat, spidery straight lines of Byrne Faraday, the flowing cursive of Calisto Yew, the smudged and smeared print of Tyrell Badd—they were all there, and Maya almost reveled in her victory until she caught sight of a whip of black embedding a flash of gold.

Kay Faraday was still in her own archives room.

In hindsight, Maya should have realized that it would have happened; she had tried to direct her to it, after all. However, she'd been betting that all the resources would have at least been spread over a larger number of places; to stack every source in the same area was sheer lunacy.

Lunacy that the Faradays, apparently, wore well.

Maya bolted, searching through the house in vain as the last vestiges of sunlight left the rather roomy mansion. She hoped vainly that another resource room was around, that it would contain some information of some sort that could help her clear up some of her confusion.

No such luck.

* * *

"_Hello, you've reached—_"

"_Hi, you've reached—!_"

"_Hello—_"

"_Hi—_"

"Hey—"

Jumping upright with a started noise at the back of her throat, Maya glanced wildly at Kay from her perch atop her bed. Cellphone clasped tightly in her hand, her finger itching between the two buttons on the sides of the phone that would let her call the two people she had called last, she squeaked. "Gosh, Kay, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"I'm sorry; didn't know you were…calling people?" She raised one eyebrow; Maya shoved her phone under a pillow and spoke quickly.

"I was just fiddling around. So what is it, Kay?"

"…Just checking to see if you were okay." She shrugged and left, casting a raised eyebrow and a glance at the phone to Maya and back to the phone. "Alright. You should get some sleep." She leaned forward to pat her shoulder. "See ya tomorrow morning, okay?"

"Mmhm." She nodded vigorously, sighing in relief as Kay left with one last smirk. Collapsing backward, the thin shine of clear sheets covered her vision for a second before she flipped, languidly slipping her hand underneath the pillow to grasp at her phone by the strap once again.

The two buttons clicked in unison, as if in competition to see who would win. The first did, Phoenix Wright's voice ringing through the room.

"_Hello, this is Phoenix Wright. If you have to talk to me, please leave a message after the beep…oh, and no hate mail._"

The last was spoken with a small chuckle, before a small dial tone permeated the silence. Immediately, Maya pressed the next button, so a message of white sound wouldn't end up on her old friend's message machine.

"_Hi, this is Pearl Fey, the Master of Kurain. If you have a channeling request, please call our main hotline. If it's a question about the village in general, please call the public line. Otherwise, you're free to leave a message!_"

She blinked skeptically, ending the call with a sigh as she collapsed again.

"I need help," she mutters to the empty room. She hears herself, echoing off the walls, an unspoken continuation of her unspoken question.

"_Hello, this is Phoenix Wright._"

She must have pressed the button again. Weird how she'd done it unconsciously.

"_Um, this __**is**__ Maya Fey, right?_"

Sitting upright, Maya reached for the phone that was rapidly sinking into the covers with a sort of desperation only bred from panic. Feeling the ridges dig into her palm, she gripped it tightly as it blared on.

"_Maya? Are you there?!_"

Silence. Maya felt something rise up in her throat—the beginnings of _something_ that even she couldn't figure out.

"_Maya?_"

A small noise came from her throat, halfway between a word and an animal growl. Her fingers tapped frantically across the keypad, numbers flashing across the screen frantically.

"_Is everything—_"

The voice cut off abruptly and Maya gave a small, shaky breath—of relief or despair, she couldn't quite tell.

"What am I going to do?" She asked herself the question slowly, wondering idly whether or not even she knew what she was talking about. Unfortunately, she could vaguely guess. The problem nagged at her subconsciousness, begging to be answered and keeping her quite antsy, a clear indication it would continue to do so until she did adequately answer it.

If she didn't even know her own place and everyone she thought could tell her no longer could, how could she trust herself to choose a good position even for herself?

Collapsing backwards, swimming in her own uncertainty, she glared at her phone, debating whether to call or not. For ten seconds, she thumbed the button incessantly before throwing it down.

No. She wouldn't ask someone else what to do with herself. It was her own story, after all. She just didn't know how to finish it. And if she didn't deserve the privilege, no one did.

Of course, the fact that she didn't deserve that privilege either kind of complicated her viewpoint. She'd have to decide for herself or let someone decide for her. She wasn't willing to do either. And doing nothing was the equivalent of choosing the Yatagarasu's path.

So that left her, desperate and more than a bit confused, with her fingers clinging to her last two lifelines. Only Pearl and Phoenix left—and she could no longer felt the same belief in their opinions she once had.

"It's up to me now," she sighed, leaning back and thinking contemplatively.

At this point, she really had three options—go back to Kurain, stay with the Yatagarasu and risk her own reputation and that of the villages, or simply run away from everything.

The last was absolutely out of the question; she could no more lose what little she had left than she could kill herself. Her two remaining options both filled her no longer with any happiness or energy, simply a dull pit of obligation. Something she had to do, something painful, something hard.

Of course, she wasn't the only one left living out of duty.

Nevertheless, she lifted her head slightly, considering slowly. Kurain meant safety, yes—and bland normality, and above all, defeat. The Yatagarasu, meanwhile, was danger and possible adventure and risk. And friends.

But the thing the Yatagarasu offered that was most enticing, most interesting, was a chance, no matter how small, at _purpose. _At a reason.

She nodded to herself slowly, considering the phone still half-buried and blended in the violet bed sheets. Finally, she picked it up and pressed the button on the side.

"_Hi, this is Pearl Fey!_"

"Pearls." She nodded, and smiled at the answering voice. "Yeah, I'm good. I just wanted to ask you if you could do me a favor."

* * *

**Yeah, um, the ending I just churned out as fast as I possibly could. So bad quality. Derp.**

**Next chapter is Furnivall. I'm thinking I'll be alternating preparation-preparation-mission all the way until the murder from now on.**

**I'm considering starting another multi-chapter and alternating updating them. If that's the case, things'll go a little slower. Nothing's certain yet, but I think it's very likely that will happen.**


	5. Chapter 5

_{Maya Fey_

Kurain dress codes didn't have many down times, and on the special days that they didn't apply Maya's happy disposition had usually shown through. In fact, the last time Maya had dressed all in black had been when she was three or four years old. It was the first conscious time she had been aware her sister was leaving the mountain for her law firm, and she had been planning to follow her. She had made it to the train station before Mia—who had apparently been aware that her sister had been shadowing her for the entire time—abruptly turned and raised an eyebrow before revealing she had called her Aunt Morgan a bit over twenty minutes before. Maya had pretty much passed out from exhaustion at that point.

Tonight, when she tapped her foot excitedly and bounced quickly as she waited for Ema and Kay to arrive, Mia was at the forefront of her mind once again—at least until the forensic-loving detective screeched to a stop in her small car in front of her. Shoving her pink glasses up her forehead, Ema grinned out at her friend. "Hey." She raised an eyebrow. "Dressed already?"

"I came like this," Maya grinned. "I'm so excited! Aren't you?"

As the spirit medium bounced in circles, Ema simply shrugged with a wry smile. "I'm good." She tossed her forensic coat into the car, revealing that she too had dressed in black. When Maya reached up to grab her glasses, she held them in place. "Nope, these stay on." She frowned.

"Where's Kay?"

"She's coming soon, I bet."

"Unbelievable." Reaching into her brown bag and pulling out a single Snackoo, Ema munched viciously. "She organized this thing, and she's the last to arrive…"

The thought was remedied almost immediately when the Yatagarasu dropped out of a nearby tree, the key in her hair glinting dimly in lamplight.

"Kay!" Maya backed away, reeling. "Is this how you always greet people? Just drop out of random trees?"

"It's more awesome that way," she replied with a grin. "Shall we go?"

The door of the almighty Furnivall Funds was held closed with a crusty old lock one might find holding closed a gym locker in the community center—which, judging by the smell, had once indeed been the fate befallen to the lock. Maya wrinkled her nose as Ema glared at the lock before twisting it experimentally and turning. "Anyone got the number?"

Kay shrugged. "Nope. Just hold your ear next to it and wait 'till you hear a click. Most of these have two circles right and a number, one circle left and a number, and then just directly to the third number."

Accordingly, the detective held her ear close to the lock and turned slowly. Backtracking a couple of times, the door clicked open after a couple of silent minutes during which Maya watched in fascination and Kay glanced up occasionally at the building, quietly in thought.

"Bullseye." Ema grinned as the door opened with a small creak that Kay quickly silenced with a glance of alarm and a steady hand. "That felt good."

"It always does." Kay managed a smile before entering. Ema followed as Maya brought up the rear.

On the threshold, the once-Master of Kurain looked back toward the quiet outside world. _Last chance_ seemed to reverberate in her ears, and she paused hesitantly before remembering her sister's words.

_What will you do?_

With a firm nod, she entered, question unanswered.

* * *

The lobby was a rat's nest—literally, a family of rats lay sprawled across the floor. Wrinkling her nose viciously, Maya gingerly stepped over one before she caught sight of Kay and Ema rifling through drawers and pushing on bricks in the wall. She raised an eyebrow and mouthed out the obvious—"what are we trying to do?"

"We're trying to find the boss's office," Kay answered in a whisper. "Try that side of the room."

She motioned toward the far left, and Maya nodded once in the affirmative before casting a slightly skeptical glance toward the side of the room allotted to her. A pair of chairs with stuffing poking out of random seams. An old portrait hanging from the wall without a frame. A small table with a plastic Tupperware container of mints. Wood floor. A trail of ants leading from one end of the room to another.

Doubtfully, she waded through dust bunnies drifting in moonlight before tentatively turning her head to look for a corner to cross, a hallway to the inner offices. Nothing.

Pressing on bricks skeptically (bankrupt banks don't have secret trapdoors), Maya picked at the mints and paused to pop one into her mouth before promptly spitting it out with a loud thunk as it hit the wall.

"_That thing is rotten!_" Hissing angrily, she shrugged at the motions the two wildly made.

Swooping forward quickly, Kay bent over the area where the candy had landed before turning to face the following wall.

"Jackpot!"

With a strangled yelp, she slipped a finger through a hairline crack in the wall before prying carefully and grinning. Turning, a brick fell into her palm and she presented it to the two.

Ema raced over as Maya and Kay both began taking the bricks apart, revealing a hallway that, despite being hidden, looked relatively well used. The three exchanged glances.

"It could just be the make of the building being poor. It's not necessarily purposely hidden."

"It _does_ look like a lot of people use it…but then why would it have bricks in front of it?!"

Shrugging, Maya left her two incessantly muttering companions behind as she trailed her fingers down the hallway, grinning—

And then she was abruptly cut off by a loud, grunting snore in one of the rooms at the end of the hallway. Turning on her heel, her panicked expression matched Ema's before they both turned to Kay's stare. The black-haired girl was beginning to morph from an expression of curious alarm to one of increasing determination.

The three ran as quietly as competitive twenty-year old girls could toward the door, beating a strong path into the carpet.

* * *

"_You seem to be channeling me more and more lately."_

_Maya sprawled herself carefully over her bed, pressing her phone into her ear. "Yeah. I feel like I'm bothering Pearly extensively…but Sis, I need advice. I need help."_

"_There's nothing left to help you with," Mia countered steadily. "Your path is now set out. All there remains to do is to walk it."_

"_But how can I be sure that this really is the path I was destined to walk?! For Pete's sake, sis, it's the path of a lawbreaker—and you of all people should know what's wrong with breaking the law, as a defense attorney!"_

"_I became a defense attorney for a reason. That reason's perhaps why should become the Yatagarasu."_

"_But—if there's something else—"_

"_Think about it this way." There was the shifting of clothing on the other side. "Ema solves crimes through forensic science. Kay fights for the truth by exploiting corrupt corporations. Edgeworth prosecutes criminals. Even Phoenix Wright, crushed beyond belief, has his secret missions. You, you had your spirit channeling." She paused, and Maya heard rhythmic metallic chiming as Mia plucked at the master talisman at her neck. "And, now that you've given up that path…what will you do?"_

_There was silence. Perhaps Maya should have been thinking of things, something important, but all that was left in her mind was blank expanse. The question would have to wait._

"…_Thanks, Sis."_

_There was the click of a receiver, and a dial tone was all that was left._

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

From the mere look of the office, Kay could clearly see why the guy was homeless.

The office was, despite the rest of the exterior, slightly beautiful—a thick wooden desk, a carpet, a sagging coach that reeked just slightly of mothballs. A window with tattered red drapes. Not bad, for a bankrupt society.

That probably explained why, lying on aforesaid sagging mothballed couch, was the infamous boss of the establishment.

The three stopped short at the sight of the man, hanging limply off the furniture like a sack of potatoes and snoring rather loudly. Maya left scattered skid marks across the floor as she pulled up, looking sort of alarmed.

"_Isn't he homeless?_" She whispered the words, barely mouthing them for extra precaution.

"_If I was homeless I'd stay here too,_" Kay answered with a smile. "_At any rate, we gotta keep looking for some major clue._"

"_Try not to wake the sleeping giant, guys—that is to say, stop talking and get searching._" Ema was already digging through a nearby cardboard box as she removed papers stack by stack, as quietly as she possibly could.

Maya moved boldly toward the corner of the room closest to the sleeping boss, doubtfully flicking the spines of the books on a large rickety bookshelf. Kay frowned slightly as Ema raised an eyebrow. The detective flicked her hand toward another side of the office, motioning as Kay continued to stand stoically still.

Despite herself, a small surge of annoyance flickered through her—she was the original, what did this person think she was doing ordering her around? Nevertheless, she nodded accordingly before slowly moving, pressing her toes cautiously for creaking floorboards. By the time she had made her way to her mentioned side of the room, Ema and Maya had between the two compiled a modest stack of bank records.

Were they doing better than her?!

Scowling fiercely, she turned back to her side, eyeing the curtains distastefully before pulling them back with a vicious swipe, eliciting the sharp clang of metal rung on metal and a glare from her two friends. The boss stirred from his perch on the cough, but didn't wake. Kay winced nervously.

_Okay. So that didn't work too well._

"Kay!"

The voice was little more than a hiss from Maya—nevertheless, both others turned around viciously. "_Don't make this thing into a competition!_"

_I'm not, am I?!_ Thinking harshly, Kay toed through the dust bunnies lining the wall. _I'm just trying to do my best as quickly as possible. I'm the first, after all. I have a standard to meet._

"Is this what they call making it into a competition?" She grumbled to herself, turning around and tiptoeing toward a wall with paint cracking on it.

In retrospect, the very act of trying her best not to be outdone is what did her in.

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

Kay Faraday was genuinely beginning to grate on her nerves.

"She has to get off her high horse, that's all I'm saying," she hissed angrily as Maya stood up from her kneeling position on the floor. "I swear, if she tells me 'she's the original' one more time I'm going to take that canister of Luminol and shove it down her throat in the hopes that it'll burn away some of her massive ego—"

"Well, at least that's giving her the motivation," her friend replied, dusting herself off. "But I guess I'll agree that she's going a bit overboard."

"But still!" Ema sighed, running a hand through her hair and ending it with a sharp tug to the bun at the back. "The stress she brings on herself, sooner or later, is going to make her crack—and when it gets there, I guarantee we'll get the brunt of it."

_Well, that,_ she thought as she finished up with a grand sigh and a glance toward the boxes as Maya turned away, _and the stress is going to make __**me**__ crack too._

* * *

"_Fop." Chuckling with more than a bit of relish, Ema stabbed buttons on her phone viciously. "I'll teach him to call me for no reason at all!"_

_With a final stab toward the green call button, she tossed the phone into her hand and pressed it to her ear, humming sarcastically as the dial tone ended with a click and the sound of the playing radio. "Who is it?"_

"_Fop," she said again. It was her way of greeting. "What'd you call me for?"_

"_Ah, Fraulein," the voice replied, smooth even through Ema's steadily declining receiver. "It's simply an update on the Cadaverini case. Our anonymous tip-off seems to believe that the confrontation will happen soon."_

"_Soon as in what? Don't expect me to be a mind reader, Fop. We can't all be as wonderful as you—"_

"_Soon as in sometime this week, Fraulein, clear enough terms for you?" The voice, despite having that same ever-present happiness that made Ema want to slap something, took on a tinge of annoyance. "Now, you are interrupting me and my jamming with my band. I shall talk to you later."_

"_Hang on! If you hang up on me, I swear I'll Snackoo you to the hypothetical moon and back! I need this week off—"_

_The phone hit a pillow, rather downsizing the dramatic effect, as Ema slammed her phone to the ground when the dial tone abruptly hit her ears._

* * *

Despite her distaste for her boss, Ema couldn't help but believe that she really shouldn't have taken that day off. The anonymous tip-off had given the possibility, faint but there, that the confrontation was today; if it was, she would definitely be expected to be there immediately, while Kay would be expecting her to stay there.

_I didn't expect to be sorting these priorities that quickly,_ she thought to herself despairingly ._Will I be able to make it, when the time comes?_

Not only that, but her detective's sense was tingling like crazy, buzzing around the base of her skull like a bee. Something was going to happen tonight, something that wasn't good for her, even worst that the risk of getting arrested. _Luck won't be so random as to make today be the confrontation…right?_

There was a pause in her thoughts as she mindlessly shifted through nameless boxes of useless documents—spreadsheets of income, that, while admittedly seemed rather skewed, weren't enough to shame the company permanently. Quiet fell over the room. For a second, Ema could almost imagine that it was companionable.

And then the man abruptly shifted upward, sitting up. Two pairs of eyes flew to Kay, frozen in tip-toe position, a white wire coiled ominously around her shoe.

The buzzing in Ema's skull escalated as the three exchanged alarmed glances and simultaneously scrambled for the doorway.

* * *

_{Maya Fey_

Of all the people in the room, if Maya had had to guess which of them would find the end product, she would never have guessed herself.

Ema was the most motivated, Kay had the most to lose. She'd simply tagged along at the advice of a person who'd been dead for way too many years and stuck around for the sake of having something to do. Of all the people in the room, she'd be the least likely to find the case. But she did. And in the end, that's what matters.

* * *

Maya didn't see the point in digging through drawers—would it really be that open?—or tearing through cardboard boxes—would they really be that public? Nevertheless, at the glare of Kay and the unspoken command from Ema, she complied, opening another file full of papers.

_This is useless,_ she thought to herself, throwing the least leaflet behind her back with an overdramatic toss, ruining the dramatic effect by getting her hand caught in her hair beads. Wincing as she untangled herself and earning odd looks from her friends, she glanced slowly at the file cabinet before sighing.

_Screw it._

Turning away from the cabinet, she instead kneeled onto the floor, rapping lightly on the carpet and hearing the hollow thunk of wood under her fist. Knocking at the same consistent degree, she moved her hand, desperately trying to pretend she had a valid purpose for the admittedly odd movement.

_Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thwap. Thunk._

There. Uncurling her fist slowly without moving her wrist, she dug her fingernails into the carpet and pulled upward, making sure not to change the position. The carpet came up with the sharp sound of Velcro, revealing small wooden trapdoor with a miniscule handle so as to be hidden by the moth-eaten carpet. Sliding another fingernail under the handle, she tugged again.

There was a decent modicum of space between floorboard and metal, enough to have made the hollow sound. However, there was also a small metallic safe underneath—one whose combination Maya tugged at with increasing urgency.

It was a curious little thing, the safe. A silvery-blue shade of metal that made the sound of a wind chime when tapped. When Maya placed her ear next to the dial and twisted it, there wasn't the usual telltale clink that came with the correct number in most second-rate dials. There was a small vertical infinity symbol in the lower right corner.

It looked oddly familiar.

The shock happened so quickly for such a short amount of time that for a second, Maya didn't know if it had actually happened. The image of the old defense attorney, her sister, seared her brain—only this was Mia at age twelve, dressed in acolyte robes and taking her sister down hallways to see the most precious treasures Kurain had to offer and guiding her to the prettiest safe she'd ever seen in her life. Maya had wanted it immediately for her precious dolls, and Mia had refused.

"_You can't use this, Maya,_" Mia had said laughingly, dragging her away from a child's shiny new obsession. "_It cost us lots of money. The big country actually took money out of their own bank for it. It's really neat._" She paused. "_But since it's the country that gives it to us, the combinations are all really the same._"

In an instant, Maya's hands were flying over the wheel, picking numbers out of a long-lost memory in her brain. There were definitely more than three numbers—these safes were ridiculously complex, and there were a few seconds where she'd have to backtrack and give an extra twist. Almost at the same time, her brain flew just as quickly, eyes narrowing, ignoring Kay and Ema's occasional curious glances.

Kurain, despite being isolated in mountains without what Maya called 'basic necessities' like TVs and Steel Samurai DVDs, was one of the biggest spirit channeling villages in the country. Government funding paid for rather expensive things—among these a couple of ancient spirit-channeling scrolls, entire buildings made of sacred stone (don't ask), and ten-thousand dollar safes to store secrets.

Safes that were identical to the one currently breaking under Maya's steady hands.

Seeing as the original Yatagarasu hadn't heard anything about Furnivall being funded by the government, it was safe to assume that it didn't actually have any political affiliations. The only other way to gain one of those was by stealing it—unlikely, since such an expensive robbery would have caused a ruckus—or by buying it—also unlikely, seeing as banks didn't have that type of money.

Unfortunately, it was one or the other. Maya decided, ultimately, to leave that up to Kay's powerful skills of deduction before her head exploded.

At that exact point, something else decided to explode—that is to say, a wall.

* * *

In retrospect, it was Kay's fault for tripping the wire.

Maya's mind revved into overdrive—while Ema froze, glaring stoically, and Kay clawed at her foot in vain and hissed ('not again!'), she sprang into action, grabbing everything in the safe and shoving them under the hem of her acolyte robes. Before she remembered that she wasn't _wearing_ acolyte robes, and the black t-shirt didn't have a suitable hem to hide things under without them falling apart. Cursing under her breath, she simply cradled the books in her arms. Ema's muttered profanities joined the mix as two things happened simultaneously—the manager sat up, glaring at them with sleepy eyes, and a brick wall that was again purposely unstable (seriously, how long were they going to keep pretending they were poor as dirt?) fell to the ground under the feet of three rather large dogs. One for each of them—Maya swore that the one with grey fur and large, gaping jaws, the leader of the pack, glared straight at her as if it were aware she was the one with the contents of the safe.

Before the owner could focus his bloodshot eyes on them specifically, the three simultaneously ran, trying their best to control the instinct to scream at the pursuit of three bloodthirsty hounds.

They turned another corner on the way out of the room, a different path than the way they had entered, still running as fast as they could, only to face another cracked brick barrier.

Exactly _how long_ were they going to keep pretending they were this poor?!

* * *

_{Kay Faraday_

The gold-brown dog at the edge of her heels clawed, and the clanging of the metallic baseball bat on the edges of the bricks made her wish that the homeless bank manager where anywhere but right there. Desperately hoping that the others were also indeed safe, she swore. She _really_ should have given them a bit more time to train.

Her eyes quirked upward, though, as she thought a bit more logically of the animal behind her. To buy hired versions of those things were rather expensive. Especially trained this well.

That is to say, trained well enough so that when she and Ema crossed paths, the dog held on to her scent alone, not even getting slightly fazed by the position change.

For a second in time, there was simply the burning in her lungs and the sting between her eyelids—that is, until the Steel Samurai punctured her ear drums.

And then, naturally, all fell to the dogs. Almost literally.

* * *

_{Ema Skye_

She was running when the Steel Samurai exploded from her pocket—not the person, the sound. The happy upbeats, the solid tones—Ema was going to hate that sound now. For the rest of her life. And, depending on if she survived the greyhound chasing her, maybe a bit more than that.

Scowling, she dug a hand deeper into her pocket, privately wondering to herself _why_ she hadn't changed it since she was sixteen, for Pete's sake (and perhaps more importantly why she hadn't brought a new model in over three years). She barely flipped up the top before her eyes widened. She practically shrieked aloud at the number.

"_Fraulein, _where are you?"

"Klavier!" Her voice took on some sort of unidentified tone—alarmed, scared, something; whatever it was, it was most definitely angry. "Y'know what? I'd love to talk, but I'm _kinda in a bad situation—_" She cut herself off, eyes narrowing. She berated herself internally for saying her boss's name aloud—great, now the manager of Furnivall might track her. "Just—what is it?! It's practically midnight!"

"It's past midnight, detective," the voice answered in something that was beginning to become reminiscent to her own tone. Ema's ears strained as she placed the phone next to her ear and—were those gunshots?! "It's one o' clock in the morning, actually, and you should probably know that _now is the time to get to where the police are because we are in the middle of a mob shoot out._"

"I'm not exactly sipping a cup of tea at home," she sighed in reply, giving a small whiny breath as saliva lashed at her shoes. She was going to invest in sneakers starting tomorrow. "As a detective, I'm doing a couple of rather weird things. Saving the world, busting corrupt organizations, protecting my friends from danger?!" She ignored Kay's accusatory glare—this was a regular game she played with her boss, and chances were he wouldn't take her seriously. "I'll be there as soon as I can, but hold on for a while, okay? Don't expect me any time soon!"

"Fraulein?"

"Yes?"

"_If you take your sweet time, your face will meet my guitar. Or the grindstone, whichever is easier!_" There was a shot in the background again, and the voice faded to dial, the static of loud voices and physical exertion cutting off (although granted, the latter still existed even without the phone). Ema grinned. A loud, angry Klavier was the rarest, most irritable type, and therefore the one she liked best.

And then pain ran through her leg, shooting in tendrils of electricity up her veins and centering in tingles at her calf. She dimly heard Maya screaming and Kay gasping; however, Ema tried to drag her right leg in front of her leg only to topple forward on it. Looking toward her feet, her glazed eyes caught sight of the fang-shaped bite embedding the bottom of her leg before a dull thump resonated through her entire body, sounding in her ears and beating in her skull. Looking up, gray stone grazed the edge of her face—just in front of the low granite doorway, she glimpsed dark glittering sky. Too close to freedom, but still too far, she thought dimly as blood pulsed out of her body to the rhythm of her beating heart.

Arms caught her firmly, although she couldn't tell if they were friend or foe. In the back of her head, someone called her name. It was feminine.

Her last thought as she fell was that the darkened gray ceiling above her head was just about the same color as the inside of her eyelids.

* * *

_{Mia Fey_

_Let me tell you about the trip between the spirit world and the real world: one minute I am standing as an intangible ghost, talking to my boyfriend, and then I am speeding headlong into a tube the width of my pinky finger on a cushion of air. I am a light particle, moving too fast without any exertion on my part. And then the white shine around me lightens into bright, bright lights of the room that I am in. Today it smells like antiseptic and sounds like the steady beeping of a heart that is too slow to be mine. The air tastes alive with the musty, dank spread of too many cleanings. But the most important thing is the inertia—for a second I am still reeling, still running, still feeling some adrenaline pump through my veins. For a second, I am human._

_And then the robes settle on my skin, the magatama presses too hard at the base of my throat as if suffocating me, and I remember that I am my sister._

* * *

"What I'm wondering is why _I'm _here."

Kay sighed, twisting a lock of hair between her fingers. "I just thought you should know what's going on." She gestured toward the unconscious Ema, her head plastered with bandages. "Do you think you understood what happened?"

"Yeah." Walking over to the sleeping figure, Mia ran a finger lightly over her hair and watched her face twitch in pain. "A mild concussion. And the chunk torn out of her leg?"

"It'll heal. Pretty soon, apparently." Kay shrugged. "Modern medicine does wonders. Still, the bite's pretty grotesque…"

"More importantly, it's relatively severe," the dead attorney answered, sighing forlornly at the sleeping figure of Ema. "I wanted to see her alive and well, and preferably her sister alongside her. I haven't had a good conversation with Lana for ages."

"I bet she made a great prosecutor." Kay shrugged. "Honestly, though, I'm relatively happy with how things turned out. We succeeded in getting prime information, and Ema's slated to recover really, really soon."

"Happy?" Arching a skeptical eyebrow, Mia smiled thinly. "Happy enough to risk this again, then?"

"…Sure, why not?"

"If it were your skin in the mouth of a dog, I don't think you'd be quite as happy with the outcome," Mia replied wryly. "As the current leader, it's your job to ensure that everyone on the team is still safe; their health is paramount."

"And I'll be sure to do that," the Yatagarasu replied. "Next time, I'll see if I can't get to protect them myself. You have my word."

"The word of a Great Thief, as it were?" Mia grinned again, dimly remembering the girl's enthusiasm. "Just remember; if I see my sister in any sort of grave danger…"

"Yeah, okay, whatever." Kay shrugged as Mia laughed. "So, what else did you want to know?"

"I'm curious about what happened after Ema banged her head."

"Maya managed to catch Ema, so since we were next to the door we just threw her onto my motorbike and 'rode off into the horizon,' as it were." Kay gave a wry grin. "Ema's car is still parked a good distance away from the bank, but she's got it in what she guaranteed to me was an inconspicuous place." There was a pause as the forensic detective stirred in her sleep; Kay glanced at her quickly before turning back. "Maya walked, apparently, so she didn't leave any trace."

"And how exactly did you make up an excuse to get Ema into the hospital?"

"Oh, that's easy. We—"

The two were abruptly cut off, Kay's face jumping with alarm as Ema's eyes leapt open and she groaned, attempting to prop herself up with her elbows. Immediately, Kay flew to her side, eyes narrowed in a worried fashion, before pushing her back onto the hospital cot.

"What…happened?" Ema's voice cracked, and she swiped angrily at the glass of water beside her.

"How much do you remember?"

"Is that supposed to be a trick question?" Glaring, she succeeded in grabbing the cup and downing it in practically one gulp. Kay crossed her arms, turning away at the accusing glare.

"Well, _sor-ry_ for caring," she replied with a scowl. "The doctor just warned me of temporary amnesia."

Ema's eyes softened only slightly. "Well, for a second I forgot what was going on, then I saw the hospital bed and Mia being channeled and I kinda figured out—oh, you know, we just came back from risking our life. No big deal."

The two shared a small derisive laugh tinged with a hint of competition. Mia, unsure, joined in with a slight chuckle of her own. Very quickly, however, Ema's mouth closed as her eyes narrowed.

"Wait…" Frowning slightly, Ema slowly sat up, letting her legs slip out from under the sheet, inches from touching the floor. Kay stretched out an arm in warning; nevertheless, she didn't make it in time. Ema let out a hiss as her foot made contact with the floor, drawing it back with a cry of pain.

"_God_." Slowly pulling back the blanket, she stiffened at the sight; Mia rushed over and quickly helped her lie back down into the bed. "What—is—that?"

"Obviously, you don't remember being bitten by the dog." Kay ground out a disbelieving laugh. "Also, you banged your head on a doorway and got a minor concussion."

"Concussion? Bitten?" Staring incredulously, she lifted the blanket and peered under it, coming back up with a rather disgusted facial expression. "Oh my gosh. I mean…this is our first mission…wasn't that place bankrupt?!"

"Yes, your point?"

Ema glared at Kay, eyes wide. "You mean you _don't_ see what's wrong with this?"

"Accidents happen," Kay said, although she added a tinge of apology into her tone. "Next time, we'll take more precautions, I promise—"

"That's not what I mean!" Protesting, Ema leaned forward and grabbed Kay by the scarf. "Look, if Furnivall is bankrupt and I run the risk of _amnesia_ just to break into that place, then who wants to do this entire thing again? Let alone in a place with better security?"

Despite the choked expression on her face, Kay's eyebrows shot up as her eyes widened. "What?! You can't just give up now! It's only been one, I'm sure we can do better next ti—"

"Listen, Kay," the forensic-loving detective growled. "The entire reason I'm sitting in this stupid hospital bed is because you wouldn't listen to a single word me or Maya said. I'm sick and tired—_already_—of your high-and-mighty standpoint. Either listen when I give a piece of advice and actually think about how it _may_ apply to the way I'm risking my reputation for this, or let me out of this association!"

"Piece…of…advice?" Unsuccessfully trying to free herself from the grip, Kay reached toward the fist in her scarf and pried the fingers loose one by one, although they still clung limply to the fabric. "Ema, if you're talking about the lack of practice—"

"It's not just that." She glared, eye meeting eye in a frenzy of imaginary sparks. Being a spirit really wasn't a good thing—seeing things on the fourth dimension made everything difficult. "The decision on which corporation. Who was doing what. When it was happening. From now on, I want a say." Glancing over at Mia as if looking for approval before abandoning the look, Ema turned back. "_We_ want a say."

"…Fine." Ema let go entirely, and the black-haired girl pulled back, tugging on the edge of her now stretched scarf. "Next mission."

"Okay. That's really what I wanted." Leaning back and closing her eyes, Ema let one eyelid slowly flutter open, fixing on Mia before shutting resolutely again. Speaking without looking, the detective would have looked like a corpse if her mouth wasn't moving. "Can both of you leave? I'd like to speak to Maya now."

Kay nodded, leaving the room. With a small sigh of hesitation, Mia nodded before forcing herself back into the spirit world.

* * *

_Let me tell you about the trip between the real world and the spirit world: I am walking away from a slice of heaven. Forget what they tell you about going there when you die. The afterlife is white and pristine and perfect, but it is not life and it is not home. It is not alive. It is not the strands of fiber on your skin to remind you that you are living. The spirit world is numbness. White, pristine numbness. Every color combines to make white, but when they are all mixed together I cannot see each individual one. Likewise, the afterlife is a swirl of everything and everyone that has ever existed, so much so until I cannot tell what is in front of me from what is in my head._

_Today, though, the trip is different. Because today what awaits me at the destination is not the same as it usually is—an identical scene to when I left the spirit world. It's my boyfriend this time that stood there when I left. It's my boyfriend this time that stands here when I arrive._

_No. Today is different because, despite the fact that my boyfriend is in front of me, when I look up, I see not brown eyes but striking horizontal red lines. A mask._

_Godot looks up at me, and without saying a word to explain why he has made his transition between personas, he grabs my wrist and drags me not-so-gently off into whiteness. Of course, everything is whiteness, so it takes me three tries to free my arm and ask him what is going on._

_The living need your help, he says. The Feys need your help._

_Sometimes I wonder if all I do as a dead person is help the living avoid what I have become._

* * *

**I think I'm going to give up trying to make each section three pages. (yep that's what i've been doing every other time) because of this, i think i'll tend to update faster...then again, i started another multi-chap, so lord love us all.**


End file.
